


Overwatch Lane

by FrostysaurusRekt



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Explicit Situations, Finally, M/M, Mature Topics and Language, the slowest burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-25 07:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 52,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostysaurusRekt/pseuds/FrostysaurusRekt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jesse McCree moved to Overwatch Lane to give his kids a better life, he'd never expected to have a neighbor who glared at him from his window as often as possible. Little did he know he'd be tangled up in the life of one Hanzo Shimada more than he ever thought possible. And who would have guessed he'd soon love every minute of it?<br/>-<br/>Tags and rating will be updated as the story progresses.<br/>Modern-ish AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let's Get Movin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things before we get started.  
> For the sake of this fic, all characters except for Hana have been aged back five years. It just makes things easier.
> 
> This fic is intended to be sweet and cheesy fun, so I ask that you give me the benefit of the doubt on some aspects of it.
> 
> A lot of things will be explained later on, I promise!

Jesse McCree was smiling ear to ear, arms wrapped around the heads of his two companions so that his hands could cover their eyes. No amount of whining or pleading budged his grip until he had them standing down the paved walkway from the biggest purchase of his life. “Y’all’re gonna love it.”

Hana tugged fruitlessly as the prosthetic hand that obscured her vision. “That’s what you said about the truck.”

He winced, remembering the old beat pickup truck he’d purchased when Hana got her driver’s license, a thing that broke down at least twice a week and cost them more in repairs and cab fare than the damn thing had been sold for. It might have been a mistake.

“And about the jeep.” Lucio piped up as well, though he didn’t attempt to remove the hand covering his eyes.

Another wince, yeah, that’d been a mistake too. One that had caught fire in the parking lot of their last apartment.

“Hey now,” He crooned, pulling the two closer to him. “Y’all gotta stop holdin’ those against me.” He chuckled, “’sides, you guys won’t have to take as many busses to get to your classes no more-“ He removed his hands, putting them proudly on his hips. “I got us an honest to goodness house.”

Night shifts, skipped meals, and side-jobs were entirely worth the coos of delight and awe he gained from his charges. Arms wrapped around his midsection and the small press of a kiss on his cheek from Hana made all the bone-deep weariness of the past few years fade away.

“Lucio, let’s go check it out!” Hana cheered, releasing McCree and dashing for the door of their new home, the shorter of them all hot on her heels.

Warm feelings shifted through McCree’s chest as he watched them dive inside the place- their home.

If someone were to have told him just ten years ago that he’d be going to late night college soccer games, providing meals for three, and buying a home, he would have spit something vile at them. Yet here he was, a big brother to not one, but two scoundrels.

He was mighty proud of the both of them.

-

The day of reckoning was among them- the big move. The truck was loaded up in the driveway and a rented U-haul truck filled with the bigger piece of furniture was parked on the street in front of the house.

McCree considered himself a blessed man as he watching his two kids help carry in boxes. He had heard stories of the stubbornness of children, but not once did his two put up a big fuss about helping with labor. Sure, there was the occasional groan and “do we really have to, pops?”, but for the most part they were eager to help with just about anything. Even the small Hana was lifting heavy boxes and toting them inside.

The days were hot, and McCree had long ago shed his shirt in favor of being cool. There was nothing quite like a breeze to chill the sweat on his hairy chest. It was a simple bonus to hear the embarrassed sighs of his kids.

“Where do ya want this box?” A voice chirped at him.

Wiping the sweat from his brow across his arm, he glanced at the box that had ‘dishes’ scrawled on its sides. “Ah, in the kitchen.”

“Sure thing, mister!”

McCree mumbled a thanks as he picked up two dining chairs, one tucked under each arm, and made his way into the house. He paused outside the door, waiting for one, two, three bodies to go scurrying out to pick up more boxes… wait. Three?

Taking another glance, he watched as a cheery young woman lifted a box, talking amiably with Hana about something or other as they worked. While it was concerning to have a stranger touching their things and wandering in and out of his house, he also wasn’t about to turn down help.

He became aware of another set of helping hands when he and Lucio nearly busted their asses moving the couch. The young man helped balance the thing from tipping as they wedged it through the door, a grin on his face as he accepted a thanks from Lucio.

With the extra help, they were finished unloading the trucks by the late afternoon, all of them slow with exhaustion. McCree hadn’t realized how much stuff he had until he was moving it all in, though he supposed most of the work came from moving the big pieces around. It’d taken all five of them to get the dresser up to Hana’s room.

He gave the two unnamed helpers a big grin, extending his hand. “Thank y’all for helpin’ out. Saved our sorry hides a few times.”

The girl was first to shake, eager and smiling just as wide. “No fuss, would have asked before stickin’ my hands in your stuff, but I didn’t wanna interrupt the flow.” She spoke, a thick (british?) accent coating her words. “The name’s Tracer, and this is Genji.”

The young man shook his hand as well, blowing a bubble of his gum and dark eyes watching him carefully from underneath a baseball cap. It was slightly unnerving to be watched by him, but it melted away when Genji gave a grin.

“McCree,” he introduced himself, “I’d like to thank y’all for your help. I’ve got to order some Chinese takeout for the brats before they die of complainin’-”

On cue, there was a chorus of ‘pops, I’m wasting away’ and ‘dad, I’m starving’ from just inside the door.

“-and I’d be more than happy to treat y’all. Anything ya want.” He paused with a hum. “Might need to pick y’alls brains for what’s good around here before I pull up a menu.” The pains of being in a new place- learning what food places were good and which ones to avoid unless you wanted a total system clean out.

Tracer seemed to suddenly vibrate with excitement. “Oh Genji,” He pushed at the gum chewing man’s arm. “What’s that one place you always bring us food from?”

Another bubble pop. “Rikimaru Ramen. It’s not Chinese and we’ll have to go pick it up- I don’t mind doing that part.” Now that he spoke, McCree could hear an accent. He wasn’t an expert on the regions and dialects of Asia, so he couldn’t pinpoint where the accent was from, but it was there.

“S’long as it’s food, ain’t no problems here.”

A half hour later, after the food had been ordered and picked up, the five of them were sprawled around the coffee table in the living room. They could have used the normal table, but currently the surface was covered in boxes and McCree didn’t feel like moving yet more loads of things. They were lucky enough he had enough energy after moving to put a shirt on.

“So how come you guys moved here? We don’t see many families around, mostly students renting here.” Genji asked, gum mysteriously absent as they ate. McCree just hoped he wouldn’t find it stuck to his furniture.

Before he could get a word out, Hana answered the young man eagerly. “We’re goin’ to the college nearby. Shorter commute and all that.”

The excited grin from Tracer was hard to miss. “Fellow gorillas!” She cheered, nearly knocking over her stash of food as she wrapped her arms around Hana and pulled the girl close, smushing their faces together.

McCree grinned, listening to the squeal of protest and laughter from his kid. “Hana’s startin’ up this year and well- y’all saw the truck. Don’t think it’ll hold out much longer and I’d rather be closer if’n it breaks down and I gotta go get ‘em from the side of the road.”

“Been having to take the bus, the truck couldn’t make it from our old place.” Lucio added. “It’ll be nice to be able to sleep in a bit longer.”

-

McCree grinned, his finger hooked around the neck of a bottle as he opened the door for his guests. “Y’all were a big help. Y’sure ya don’t want me to give ya a ride home?”

Both of them shook their heads but it was Genji who spoke up. “We do not live far.”

They meandered out and McCree plopped down on the wooden porch swing he’d gotten, grateful that it hadn’t required much to set up. He returned the wave he got from Tracer as she descended the steps, cupping his hand to his mouth so that the both of them could hear him. “Don’t be strangers, ya hear? Y’all’re more than welcome around here again.”

“Thanks for the grub, Mr. McCree!” Tracer yelled back.

He watched them carefully, surprised when instead of turning down the sidewalk, they crossed the street. Living across the street would certainly explain how they’d seen him moving in and didn’t mind stepping up to help. He tried to pick out which house belonged to them.

There was one a few houses down that had a few cars parked along the street. It would make sense that they lived there if they were students, likely living with other friends.

McCree was a good betting man- he’d never come out in the red after a night of poker or an evening in a casino.

But he would have never guessed that the perfectly manicured lawn across the street would have belonged to the two young adults who’d just spent the day helping him move. Two shiny, well taken care of cars sat in the driveway, and the garden that ran along the front of the house was flourishing despite the heat of the summer.

It was then he noticed the large window, a soft lamp inside illuminating a rather sizable desk and a man. The man was standing square in the center, holding a cup or something in his hands as he sneered, eyes narrowed, out the window.

Before McCree could get a seriously good look at his neighbor, the man jerked the curtains closed.

Oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overwatch Lane is dedicated to a wonderful friend and beta-reader of mine, Akirata. They've done so much brainstorming on this fic with me and they're a wonderful help when it comes to my other Overwatch works. I'd be a nervous wreck about writing if it weren't for them!
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	2. Sweat and Filth

Disgusting.

All of it absolutely disgusting and filthy. Hanzo didn’t even mean those thoughts about the class of the new family across the street, he meant them literally.

The children, young adults, were alright. They were cheerful and repaid Tracer in kind for driving them around, in garbage food, mind you, but repaid none the less. He’d questioned why she would even bother with such a chore. Answer: the truck had no air conditioning and in the height of the summer, that was a hazard.

Despite what Hanzo thought of their father, even he agreed that they should not endanger themselves for such simple things like a trip to the grocery store. Other places like amusement parks and video game stores were visited as well, Tracer quiet enjoying their company - it was nice to see her spending time with people her own age.

But their father-

That absolutely disgusting, flithy, brutish man was an entire other story.

Each day was routine, a cup of early morning coffee warm in his hands as he stared out his office window. He picked this room for the window - large, floor to ceiling, facing north so that the sun didn’t burn him to a crisp or glare in the screen of his computer. He worked tirelessly in his downtime to get the flowers in front of it to flourish. In the spring the gentle purples and soft pinks would bloom, his favorite colors there to keep him calm on the busier work days.

In the mornings Hanzo used to watch the sunrise before work, used to enjoy the peaceful tranquility that would wash over him, thank the gods for Genji’s safety and Tracer’s health, until that man moved in across the street.

It started out simple enough, a man watering his lawn. It wasn’t alarming, didn’t draw any attention from Hanzo aside from the brief question of why didn’t the brute just use the sprinkler system. But he wasn’t one to judge, some people had rituals, just as he did, every morning watching the sunrise.

Tuesdays and Thursdays. Those were the days the man - McCree, he found out from his brother - watered his lawn. The first week and a tuesday were simple events, establishing a routine, and Hanzo was entirely prepared to adjust. He would just focus on the skies that peeked over the house before him.

The second Thursday turned it upside down. He took notice of what McCree was wearing, sweat pants - ungodly, filthy, worn out sweatpants that hung too low. Coupled with his lack of a shirt, there was nothing that Hanzo did not know about the man’s body shape.

Disgusting.

He scowled, narrowing his eyes. What a blight on his perfect morning view.

His gaze must have been sharp, for McCree paused before whipping around and staring right back at him.

Hanzo wanted to let the man know he disapproved of his current attire, his eyes giving the man a once over with a curled lip of disdain.

A double take.

Dear lord, those sweatpants - atrocious, ratty, thin - left _nothing_ to the imagination. Did McCree have no shame? He was in public, well, the public eye on private property, yet he walked around with everything showing. How did he not walk funny with a gun as big as that?

The gruff man seemed to notice his gaze, turning bright red before turning away. He shut off the hose and briskly walked back inside. Uncomfortable? Embarrassed?

No matter, the unsightly bulge- er, man, was gone, leaving Hanzo to his morning.

-

At least McCree has the sensibility to wear jeans this time, finely fitted to his body. If he didn’t know anything about the man, he would say those jeans had been made specifically to fit him. Or rather, McCree had been tailored to fill those jeans.

He would have admired the cut of the denim more, had the barbarian not sudden stripped his pink flannel shirt off, tying it around his waist, and proceeded to get elbow deep in filth.

Hanzo watched with horror as the man stuck a clean hand down into the bowels of that shoddy truck, pulling it out covered in grease and oil. And then, _then_ he wiped the sweat from his brow, smearing the grime across his face, catching in his unkempt beard.

With a snort, he turned from the view, sitting down in his chair and setting to work on the spreadsheets that were due come Monday. The numbers eased him, predictable and crisp. Taxes counted down to the hundredth of a penny, weedling out any cent they could get. Dirty in theory, clean in execution.

The steady clicks of the number pad focused him, pulled him from the world of messy neighbors and young adults playing soccer in the streets- keeping their skills sharp before the real practices started up again.

So wrapped up in his calculations, he missed the knock at his door the first time. It was only when it grew urgent, louder, as if someone were trying to break in, that he glided back into the world around him. He curled his lip, taking mental note of where he was in the numbers and what processes he was in the middle of before pushing away from his desk and heading for the door.

The beating started again just as he opened, a filthy fist inches away from his nose.

Of course.

“Can I help you, Mr. McCree?” Hanzo asked curtly, sneaking a glance at his door. If any residue was present from the grimey mitts of the brute, the dark red paint hid it. Still, he would clean it tomorrow, just in case.

The man looked chastised, like Hanzo was a parent here to discipline him. He tried wiping his hands off better on the flannel still around his waist and grumbled.

“Speak up.”

“The kids mighta ruined your flower bed.” He spoke.

Motioning for the rugged man to step back, Hanzo stepped forward, peering to his garden. Tracer was plucking a soccer ball from amidst the pink Dhalias, looking extremely remorseful. “Hanzo, I’m sorry. We-”

“Just let me know what I owe ya for the flowers.” McCree interrupted. “Hell, I’ll even plant some new ones myself. I’m awful sorry th-”

Hanzo held up a hand halting his words. “I do not require payment or your help. I created that bed just fine and I will do so again. Please, do tell your kids that I am not angry.”

It was a lie, he was livid, but there was no sense in taking out his anger on the young adults. Accidents happen, and a true accident like this warranted no retaliation or repayment.

“Good day, Mr. McCree.”

Not soon enough, the man oozed from his property, though he looked like he wanted to fight back about repaying him. A noble gesture, certainly a good trait, but Hanzo wanted him and his greasy hands away from his property.

Tracer was quick to come to his side. “Hanzo,”

He gave her a smile, tense around the edges but well-meant. “I had been wanting some more variety, please do not trouble yourself.” Not kin by blood, but family none the less- just as he could not stay angry with Genji for too long, he knew his ire about the flowers would fade.

-

It was Tuesday, watering day- but Hanzo finally had a day off. He rose later than usual, missing the sunrise over the suburb, but his routine followed all the same.

A cup of coffee warm in his hands, he went to his window to greet the day.

The plan was to check his e-mails before going out to the nursery to grab flowers to fill in the damage in his garden. His schedule was thrown out the window, perhaps even the very window he stared through, as he entered his office.

Curtains open - had he left them that way or had Genji opened them knowing he enjoyed the warmth from the light in his office? - he saw the hairy beast of a man mucking around in his garden.

Flowers were in temporary plastic pots by his side, reds with a few dashes of yellow. Unsightly. He would say nothing against the filling in of holes in his plush flower bed, but come winter he would let the too bright yellows and reds die, replaced with purples and pinks in the following spring.

Hanzo watched closely, eyes narrowed as he remained unseen by McCree as of yet. The fool didn’t even have a trowel or gardening gloves, he was digging into the dirt with his bare hands like the true heathen he was. In the silence, he heard something sharp, melodic and it took him a moment to realize that he was hearing McCree whistling outside his window.

Finally, he boldly rapped his knuckles on the window, drawing the barbarian’s attention.

Quick to look up into the glass, McCree grinned and gave him a mock salute, smudging dirt on his face. Had he no shame?

He gave a quick sneer in return before settling in at his desk. When the whistling started up again, instead of finding it annoying to have a different sound other than his keyboard, he discovered the tune growing on him.

-

It was late in the afternoon when he heard the knocking he’d been dreading all day. Surely there was more grime on his door- he really did need to clean that.

Without hesitation, he pulled the door open with a quick. “I see you did not listen to my wishes.” It took a moment for Hanzo to register his appearance; shirtless yet again, more flannel tied around his waist, and dirt peppered all over the broad hairy chest. How could he deal with being so filthy?

McCree looked unapologetic, shrugging. “I noticed ya hadn’t fixed it yet and I felt awful bad about the kids doin’ that. I had some spare time and don’t mind gettin’ my hands dirty.”

“I have noticed.”

“Well anyways, Hanzo-”

“Mr. Shimada,” He corrected quickly. He didn’t know the man enough, didn’t want to get to know the brute, for them to be on a first name basis.

“Mr. Shimada, just wanted t’let ya know it’s all done.”

Hanzo pursed his lips, biting back a statement of how it was very obvious that it was done, given that McCree was standing at his door. “Thank you, good evening then, Mr. McCree.”

“‘Good evenin’, Mr. Shimada.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overwatch Lane is dedicated to a wonderful friend and beta-reader of mine, Akirata. They've done so much brainstorming on this fic with me and they're a wonderful help when it comes to my other Overwatch works. I'd be a nervous wreck about writing if it weren't for them!
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	3. Static

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally broke out of my writing slump and was able to finish this chapter! It's not the best I've done, but it's necessary -shrugs-

The remaining days of summer passed by without further incident, and Jesse was happy to note that the flowers he’d planted in Shimada’s garden didn’t look half bad. They certainly added a burst of color among the soft muted pinks and purples. But, he also might have been saying that for the simple fact that red and yellow were his favorite colors.

The change in season meant that the lack of A/C in the truck, or Bastion, as the kids liked to call it, wasn’t entirely unbearable. A light sheen of sweat would appear if one decided to drive the steel trap in the middle of the day, but at least you wouldn’t bake.

With the cooling of the days, the kids also began their fall semester at Athena University. Hana was eager to instantly buy a sticker of the school’s mascot - a cute glasses wearing gorilla - and slap it right beside the faded yellow bird sticker on the back window of the truck. The bird might have been a Tweety bird sticker at some point, but time and the harsh sun had faded the image.

“Thanks for the lift, Mr. McCree.” Tracer chirped from the back seat. Her car was in the shop for the week, receiving replacement parts for something or another. Had he known ahead of time, he would have offered to take a peek under the hood- it might have been something he could’ve fixed, lord knows he did enough work on Bastion.

“‘S no trouble. Makes sense if I’m pickin’ up the brats anyways. You drove ‘em around enough durin’ the summer anyhow. I owe ya.” Jesse responded with a wave of his hand.

He didn’t mind picking up the kids after their practice, but he felt a bit embarrassed by the prospect. The kids weren’t really kids anymore, they were young adults, and yet they still lived with their old man and were picked up and dropped off like they were still in grade school.

The next item on the list of ‘Really Big Adult Purchases’ for McCree: another vehicle. Sure would make things easier.

Lucio and Hana wouldn’t have to be driven to their classes for the sake of leaving Jesse with the truck for his job. They’d get some more freedom and he’d worry less about them on the road in a better car.

At a red light, he took stock of his pride and joy. Physical possessions be damned, his greatest achievements in life were right there in the truck with him. Hana with her games and Lucio with his music…. And McCree’s shirt.

“Hey kiddo, don’t you got your own clothes?”

Lucio perked up and looked guilty down at the pink flannel that he had on top of an undershirt, rubbing a worn edge between his fingers. “Sorry Pops, I forgot to do laundry.”

Jesse eyed the shirt warily, worried about the fraying edges and the loose buttons he’d yet to sew tighter. “Just make sure it gets back to me in one piece. ‘S my favorite one.”

“Sure thing, Pops.” Lucio replied absently before twisting to face the back seat where Hana and Tracer were riding. “Hey Trace, you watch that video I sent you?”

Tracer leaned forward to be heard over the drone of the truck on the road. “Sure did, had me laughin’ hard enough that Hanzo came running upstairs in a fuss. ‘Tracer what’s wrong!? Are you okay?’” She spoke, dropping her voice low to imitate Hanzo before laughing.

The kids joined her in laughter, filling the truck with one of the most comforting sounds in McCree’s life. ‘ _They’ll be good for you, Jesse._ ’ A feminine voice echoed in his head, making him smile. They sure were, even on his worst days, he could count on Hana and Lucio to be there and make everything right in the world.

“How’d you get that nickname anyhow?”

“Oh!” She sounded surprised at the sudden question. “I uh-”

McCree waved away his sudden question. “Don’t mean to pry none, if it’s too personal.”

“It’s fine!” The young woman chirped back. “I got it from Dr. Winston. It’s the brand on my pacemaker.” Her voice was light, odd considering the heavy subject it touched upon.

McCree pursed his lips, holding back questions that arose. Was it truly alright for her to be playing as intense a sport as soccer with a pacemaker keeping her up and around, and wasn’t she also on the track team? He wasn’t an expert in that field, but there had to be some sort of limit.

She wasn’t his kid, worried as he may be. He’d just keep an eye out for her, just in case.

-

_“Y’all’re serious? I gotta take care of some snot nosed shit?” McCree spat, wrinkling his nose. “I’d rather go to juvie and get out when I hit 18 in a few months.”_

_His lawyer shook her head, “If you don’t take this offer, they are going to try you as an adult, Mr. McCree.”_

_She slid a packet of paper toward him, a detailed list of all the crimes he’d committed in the Deadlock gang, some of them weren’t even gang crimes. That one time he and Stitches had robbed the liquor store while already drunk off their asses was in here- the whole gang was turning on one another._

_“Why me? Surely there’s some other members y’all got locked up that have more dirt.” He didn’t know well enough to shut his mouth, jamming his foot firmly in there. They were giving him a chance, so why was he pushing it away?_

_“You are the youngest, while you have done some… questionable things, you are also the only member who has not killed someone.”_

_McCree winced._

_“They’d rather give you the chance to redeem yourself rather than make a deal with one of them.” She slid another paper forward, placing a pen neatly on top of it. “All you have to do is sign saying that you’ll give us all the information on them.”_

_“And they won’t know it was me?” He could hear Babe’s voice angrily shouting about snitches gettin’ put six feet under._

_“Not unless you’re willing to testify in open court. We have enough evidence against all of them, we just need to know how it all goes together.”_

_“All I gotta do is babysit?”_

_“The Big Brother program, yes. Your records will be sealed and your future employers will have no knowledge of any of this, so long as you stick with the program for two years.”_

_He was already signing before his lawyer had finished talking. He’d been debating turning it down, going belly up on his gang just didn’t feel right, and he’d be out in a few years. After all, like she’d said, he hadn’t actually killed anyone. But that promise of an essentially clean slate, he would give up everything to have that- no one ever needed to know._

-

McCree ran a hand over his face as he entered the recording studio, nabbing a cup of coffee from the break room before his shift began.

He could hear the rambunctious James winding down his shift by winding up, yapping endlessly into the mic and abusing his soundboard. He hardly even gave McCree a second glance as he slid into his own booth and prepared for his shift.

The job at OWTV radio station was plush for all it entailed, McCree’s only complaint being the hours. Why on this green earth had he ever accepted a shift from 1AM to 7AM? Because the station had been just as desperate as he had been, willing to pay double to a man who was willing to work for half.

Just as he was settling into his seat, he heard James finishing up his hour.

“Oh would ya looky here, everyone’s favorite stud’s here for the evenin’. Say hi, Six Gun.” The Australian prodded with a grin.

Clearing his throat before opening his mic, McCree leaned forward, voice deep and his tawng drawn out. “Howdy,”

“Well, looks like we’ve run out of time!” James howled into the mic, followed by a shriek of laughter. “Junkrat out!” He punctuated his leave with a series of soundboard explosions.

McCree smiled wryly, shaking his head. James was a good kid, a bit… Excessive, but certainly well meaning.

“How’re you folks doin’ tonight?” He crooned into the mic. “Let’s get some nice tunes goin’ before Six Gun gets to answerin’ some of y’all’s sweet calls.”

The sultry cowboy persona, eaten up readily by the late night crowd that was out barhopping or coming home. Mostly tipsy calls goading him to speak more were all that came in- what was supposed to be a smooth music shift had transformed into more of a late night talk show.

McCree’d never considered his voice that nice, he knew his accent could grate on people’s nerves, but on his first shift, he’d received a handful of phone calls begging him to talk more. Over time, his shift blossomed into the hours of the sweet talking Six Gun. It ranged from giving people advice, laughing over a story, sharing a story (fabricated or otherwise), and even sometimes fell to him just repeating sentences that people wanted him to say. Smatterings of music were laced between the calls, and so long as he had good ratings, the studio could care less what he did on his shift.

Everything he said, all of his tales, all of his flirtatious lines were hidden behind a false name. Six Gun, for the six hours he’d spend filling the air and for his rather… lewd use of the gunshot noise that had his coworkers howling in laughter when they caught wind of the innuendo he’d made with the sound.

Thankfully, as entertaining of a job as it was, he made a decent enough living to support himself and his kids. A great shame about the hours, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, dedicated to Akirata for all their hard work on AWiL.  
> Special thanks to my friend Pyxuspie for helping me get some sort of characterization out of Junkrat- I am not good with the junkers, oops.  
> And more love to the McHanzo discord for unending support and fueling me with their screams. Love you guys.
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	4. Mockingbird

Hanzo was never the kind of man to fill his head with noise for distraction. Silence was always a far more welcome state of being, punctuated by the small sounds of one’s daily activities. The soft sipping of coffee in the mornings, the steady _click click click_ of his keyboard, or the shuffling of papers as he caught up on the news. Small sounds, enough to be ignored if he was feeling particularly ornery.

Something had changed, he supposed, in his time spent in the states. There was always noise. The hum of electricity, the drone of a car going past- it was never silent, not even in his secluded suburb and especially not after the oaf moved in across the street.

If Hanzo so much as left his house, there was sure to be a “Howdy, Mr. Shimada!” from the brute, or a cheer and a holler from his kids.

He did not begrudge the kids for their loudness, it was a learned trait from their disgusting man of a caretaker.

The sounds of their greetings changed his routine.

Where he used to jog in the evenings before a hot shower and slipping into bed, he runs in the early mornings and cleans himself before work. The evenings were noisy now, and the brute had odd hours.

He didn’t want to spend more time in McCree’s presence than necessary, and knowing the barbarian’s predilection for neighborly friendliness, there was no doubt in Hanzo’s mind that he would be accosted were he to be caught out for a run. No matter how many excuses Hanzo came up with, it would always seem as though the man were oblivious to the social cues of someone eager to _get away_.

Mornings were better. McCree was never around in the mornings and his kids were never awake. Even Hanzo’s brother and tennant were asleep when he slipped out of the house for his run, and he wondered if they even knew he still exercised. The answer to that question mattered none in the grand scheme of things.

He liked his runs to be quiet.

Or at least, he used to.

It was only a few infuriating weeks ago that Genji kept him up late, insisting he hear this man’s voice on the radio.

“He sounds like sex!” His brother crowed, desperately trying to pull up the link to the station from over Hanzo’s shoulder.

Personal space invaded, he recoiled and hissed. “You kept me up to listen to a man’s voice when I could call a phone service for that?”

Genji paused and scrunched up his face. “Filed under: Things I didn’t want to know.”

“You have been spending too much time with Hana.” Hanzo spoke evenly.

“And you’ve been spending too much time single.” Genji countered, returning to typing away and clicking on a series of links. “Anyways, you gotta hear this guy.”

A voice, sweet and rough, poured over the speakers and before Hanzo could swat Genji away, the invasive brat bookmarked the page, putting it on his tidy favorites bar. Hanzo seethed. “I heard him, now I’m going to sleep. It is 1:30 in the morning, Genji.”

“No no no,” His green haired relative ushered, swatting Hanzo’s hand away from the mouse. “ _Listen_. And- oh man, I gotta show this part to you!”

The menace whipped out his phone and began dialing, his eyes focused on Hanzo’s hands, prepared to smack them down should he try to close out the window again. And so, while he waited for whatever else Genji would attempt to show him, he listened.

The voice was speaking to a caller who sounded very distressed.

“ _Listen, baby girl. He ain’t worth your tears._ ” The host spoke, voice dipping low and heavy with an emphasized drawl.

“Four years of my life!” The caller wailed.

“ _I know, and it’ll hurt. But if he’s too stupid to realize he’s lettin’ go of one of the best things in his life, then he ain’t smart enough to be worth your time._ ” The host paused, listening to little sniffles. “ _Can you do somethin’ for me, baby girl?_ ” A vague ‘uh huh’ sound of confirmation passed over the line. “ _Call up one of your friends, bein’ alone through somethin’ like this is rough. And both of y’all call me back later, y’hear?_ ”

He could hear that smile, lazy and caring through the speakers.

For a moment, Hanzo wondered about what the host looked like. Unattractive, he assumed first and foremost. There was a saying, ‘ _you’ve got a face for radio_ ’, that he’d heard often enough in the states.

Genji’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. Correction, an echo of Genji’s voice.

Beside him, his brother chatted into his phone and every word came out muffled by light static from Hanzo’s computer.

“ _Y’sure are an eager one. What can I do fer ya tonight?_ ”

Genji gave Hanzo the biggest shit eating grin he’s ever seen- worse than the one he gave right before a hoard of people followed him into the house for a party a few years ago. A party that ended with a broken leg for a young woman and a few broken antiques for Hanzo.

“It’s my brother’s birthday, could you sing the happy birthday song for him?”

“ _Sure thing, yer brother got a name?_ ”

“Hanzo Shimada.”

Hanzo’s eyes widened and he launched himself out of his chair, trying to wrestle the phone from Genji and stop this nonsense. He hardly registered the choked coughing from the host, seeing red and trying to throttle his brother.

But then it started, each word dragged out with the low key of the man’s voice.

“ _Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you._ ”

There was a rumble to it, from a deep chest and obscured by airway static, but it was enough that Hanzo stilled to listen and Genji slipped from his grasp, fleeing into the next room.

“ _Happy birthday, Hanzo Shimada._ ”

Hanzo grimaced through a shudder, ashamed that he felt warmed by the voice of a stranger saying his name with perfect syllables.

“ _Happy birthday… to you._ ”

“Thank you Mr. Six Gun!” Genji’s voice preened over the line, breaking the spell over Hanzo.

“ _Anytime, pardner. Anythin’ else y’all be needin’?_ ”

“Yeah! What do you think about phone sex operators?” He could hear the laughter behind Genji’s voice.

Hanzo lept to his feet, exerting more energy than he had in a long while, and ran after his brother. He could barely make out the sound of the host, but it carried at a low volume through the house.

“ _Well, I’m sure as hell of a lot cheaper, ain’t I?_ ” A chuckle followed, sinuous and easy. “ _But they’re good folks, doin’ the same stuff I do, only a lot more private. Deserve as much respect as anyone else. More even, if ya want my opinion. Ain’t an easy job._ ”

“Thanks Six Gun, and thanks for singing to my brother. He really loved it- HANZO, NO. HANZO, PUT DOWN THE BAT!”

What happened after that was moot point, and if anyone asked, Genji needed a new phone because he dropped his old one in the toilet.

The memory was fond, despite its childishness, bringing a smile to Hanzo’s lips as he pressed his ear buds into place. He always treasured close times with Genji, especially now that they could be close once again.

At the same time, he blamed that incident for breaking his silent jogs.

After that evening, he discovered that the man, Six Gun, ran a shift well into the morning. The sultry allure of that deep, gravelly voice drew him in and Hanzo found that he enjoyed focusing on the steady cadence of his words rather than the rhythmic pounding of his feet on the sidewalk. He found he cared little for what the man was actually saying, just the tone alone was soothing and eased his mind in the mornings.

A replacement for the unhindered view of the sunrise he’d lost.

-

It was a bad night for Hanzo.

He’d been laying in bed for hours, eyes trained on the ceiling but unseeing. The house was empty, there was no Genji to go bother for some exhausting entertainment and there was no Tracer to insist his insomnia upon. His brother would not be in his room to show him gratuitous amounts of cat videos and his housemate would not be playing video games in her room.

His mind wandered across the street, angrily huffing at the flourishing greens in front of McCree’s home. It was no bed of flowers, but the porch swing on his patio was surrounded by a lush paradise with plenty of shade no matter the time of day.

Hanzo bitterly remembered the reds and yellows in his garden, half of him wanting to go tear them out right now. But the other half remembered that because of the addition of those bright, eye catching blossoms, he was the proud owner of the Yard of the Month sign. Pride prevented him from admitting that the brute had helped in some way, yet guilt made him afraid to actually put the sign in his yard.

Afraid? Did he truly believe that McCree would take offense, demand some sort of compensation for the aid he’d given. Unwarranted aid, Hanzo reminded himself briskly, staunching the flow of backhanded plotlines.

The dirty man was no killer at his throat for the right numbers in his books. He didn’t have a sniper trained on Genji, ready to fire unless Hanzo bowed to his wishes.

Clenching his eyes shut, Hanzo reached for his phone. He needed calm, and without his normal distractions, he was floundering as to where he could find that peace.

Hanzo dialed for the OWTV radio station.

He’d called a few times before to request topics to be talked about, mostly when Six Gun was in a lull and about to play music right in the middle of Hanzo’s jog. Not to say that he didn’t enjoy the music, but it certainly was not something he desired when running.

The instant the man spoke, a sense of ease draped over Hanzo.

“ _Howdy stranger, you’ve reached Six Gun in the dead of night. What can I do ya for?_ ”

Hanzo turned on his side, resting his phone on top of his face and folding his hands beneath his head. “I am having trouble sleeping.”

Six Gun chuckled. “ _You and a lotta other folks. Need my Ma’s ol’ sleepy brew recipe again?_ ” There was rustle of paper, likely from Six Gun reaching for a paper with the instructions written down- often he would read off old family recipes to curious callers.

“I have already tried tea. I had a request of you, actually.”

“ _Shoot for it._ ”

“Could you perhaps sing something?”

A low whistle came through the line. “ _A lil odd, but sure. Any requests, darlin’?_ ”

Hanzo shook his head before remembering that the man couldn’t see him. “Ah, no.”

He could hear that grin again, in the way Six Gun’s voice rose a bit higher before it dipped down low again. “ _I’ll sing ya one of my favorites. A touch prettier in a young thing’s voice, but I reckon I’ll give it a shot,_ ”

_Stars shining bright above you,_

_Night breezes seem to whisper ‘I love you’._

_Birds singin’ in the sycamore tree,_

_Dream a lil’ dream o’ me._

The steady words gave way to easy whistles and Hanzo could imagine Six Gun was forgetting how certain parts mended together. But that wasn’t what mattered was it? People didn’t call to get an accurate, lyric for lyric song. They called to hear his voice, to hear him say and sing things in such a sinful tone that he often had to end the call when the strangers got ‘ _too rambunctious_ ’.

“ _Ya still there, darlin’?_ ”

Hanzo managed a sleepy ‘yes’ which earned him a deep, soft chuckle.

“ _Alrighty then, get some good shut eye._ ” And he ended the call.

Hanzo was warm, enveloped in those sweet words from a stranger over the phone that pulled him into sleep- better than any phone service conversation he’d ever had. In his dreams, that voice never stopped and warm arms wrapped around him and swayed to the tune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for Akirata \o\  
> Song is Dream a Little Dream of Me. Too many artists have sang it, but its a pretty song ;u;
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	5. Pacer

Jesse wanted to thank the former owner of Bastion for leaving their collection of CDs behind. Each disk was scrawled with the name Ganymede in sharpie, but given no indication of what was on them. The case of CDs had been jammed beneath the passenger's seat and Jesse also wanted thank Genji's profound curiosity for finding Ganymede's treasure.  
  
It took the green haired man all of ten seconds to hear the desperate pleas from Hana and Lucio in the backseat before slipping one of the disks into the player.  
  
To Jesse's eternal delight, Genji was just as big of a fan of the pop classics of Taylor Swift as he was. Together, they sang along horrendously, drowning out the pitiful shrieks of the other occupants of the vehicle.  
  
When the pulled into the driveway, only Tracer was fast enough to fling herself out of the truck and slam the door before Jesse could lock it down and crank up the volume. Bastion shook, the kids screamed, and he and Genji jammed out, dancing with embarrassing flourish in their seats.  
  
Unfortunately, the saltwater that soaked Jesse's swim trunks was beginning to dry and get mighty uncomfortable, so he ended Hana and Lucio's torture before it became his as well.

The warmer days of autumn were waning and before it was too late and the days too cool, he’d dragged the kids to the beach for a day. Of course, they begged to bring Tracer along who then insisted that Genji had been begging Hanzo for weeks for a beach trip. Jesse tried to get Hanzo to join them, but the man had just waved goodbye to Genji and Tracer and then slammed the door in Jesse’s face.

A little too close, the end of his nose still hurt if he tried to rub out a sniffle.

Sometimes it was difficult keeping his secret under wraps. Six Gun didn’t kiss and tell, well… didn’t sing to and tell, and if he was honest with himself, he liked the calls. It was pleasant getting to hear a softer side of the man who likely hated Jesse with every fiber of his being.

And if he got a little wistful and caught up in daydreams of singing to Hanzo in real life, no one could tell him to quit.

The man was a looker, sharp angles, clean pressed, and something about that whip-like wit had Jesse infatuated with him. If it wasn’t so damn rare for Jesse to find someone more than just aesthetically pleasing, he’d risk chasing away his neighbor with a few good natured flirts. As it was, he liked his presence and was determined to keep him coming around as long as possible, even if that meant occasionally getting a door slammed on his face.

By day, he was the annoying neighbor, Mr. McCree, who was linked to the man through surrounding friendships, but never actually close.

By night, he was the radio host who talked to Hanzo about the meanings of flowers and listened to the man go on about color theory and sang him to sleep when nights were rough.

Jesse wondered what made them so.

Speaking of Hanzo, sliding out of the truck, Jesse looked across the street to see the man standing in his lawn frowning at the lot of them. Always frowning, though it wasn’t entirely a bad look for him.

They locked eyes and Jesse smiled wide, brushing dried salt off his bare, hairy chest and then giving him a mock salute. He was pleased to note the way Hanzo’s eyes lingered on his chest and then traveled down, widening before snapping back up to Jesse’s face with the most enraged scowl he’d ever seen.

Jesse laughed. There was no hiding any of that, especially with the damp fabric clinging to every inch of skin, though most people were polite and didn’t draw attention to his… _pre-dick-ament_. He doubled over laughing, pleased by his own joke even though it would come at the cost of angering his neighbor more.

Hanzo’s lip curled and he began rolling up his sleeves, stalking to the edge of his lawn.

The radio host was intrigued by where this was going, did he intend to fight him? Hanzo might have had some muscles hidden beneath that pristine white button-up, but Jesse was bigger and knew how to throw his weight around.

Hana bopped into his view, his favorite flannel hanging off her shoulders - taken from his closet with the intent of protecting her skin from sunburn. Jesse would never understand why she refused sunscreen. “Hey Dad, can Tracer stay the night?”

Jesse glanced down at her and then back over to Hanzo, who was now being dragged towards his own home by Genji, spitting fire and still glaring whole-heartedly at Jesse.

“Sure Pumpkin, don’t see why not.” He felt pride over her manners, that she didn’t just assume things would fly in his house just because she was an adult. He hoped she showed those same manners when spending time in Hanzo’s house - or maybe that was the reason his neighbor wanted him dead.

The young girl squealed, wrapping her arms around his midsection. “Thanks Dad!”

-

Jesse McCree would never understand how he got roped into this. All he wanted to do was make some quick food and then sleep like the dead for the rest of his weekend off.

What started as a sandwich for one turned into a platter turned into a movie with the kids turned into him being pinned down and tortured mercilessly - retaliation for the singing in the truck, no doubt.

Hana was sitting on his chest, his flesh hand in hers as she painted his nails a bright pink, and Tracer at his feet, bright orange beginning to decorate his toes.

“You told the bloke to shove it, right?” Tracer asked with a chirp.

“Totally, although I don’t think he understands Korean.” The younger of the two replied, blowing on a freshly done finger nail. “Thankfully a gutpunch is a universal sign.”

“Brutal.”

“Hana-” Jesse started until the young girl reached down and slapped harshly at his side.

“Girl talk, Dad. You’re supposed to pretend like you don’t hear any of this.”

He grunted. “Yeah, I’ll pretend until I start hearin’ about violence. Don’t do shit I would do, Hana.”

The two girls continued chatting, as if he had never interrupted, until Lucio came through the door, his part-time job keeping him out late. The boy took one look at his parent and the two girls keeping him captive and immediately joined in on the winning team’s side.

Revenge for the truck, for sure.

Hana finished his hand and let McCree sit up, and he took note that Tracer’s speed on his toes had slowed. Occasionally she would sway, eyes glassed over, but then snap right back into it and continue painting away. When she zoned out right in front of his eyes, he took note of how pale she looked, her breath labored as if she were running up flights of stairs instead of sitting at his feet.

Jesse glanced over to Lucio, who looked back at him all the same. No words passed between them, but a message did, and Lucio picked up the keys to Bastion and slipped silently out into the garage.

“The fumes of the polish are gettin’ to me,” Tracer spoke, her voice slow and she tried to cover it with a laugh. “Be right back, gonna grab a glass- don’t mess up my hard work!”

The young woman got up, swayed and tripped over nothing before she even left the living room.

“Hana,” He said, low, but forceful. “Grab Tracer’s phone, I need Mr. Shimada’s number.” He quickly got up when he heard a clatter come from the kitchen, a chair falling to the ground. Nearly sprinted when he heard a thud, like a body dropping.

Tracer was sitting in a chair, its companion tipped over onto the floor beside her, and her hand clutched to her chest. She looked up at him, face white as a ghost. “Mr. McCree,” Her voice was weak, trembling, as if she knew exactly what was happening - Jesse certainly could take a guess. “Somethin’s not right.”

He scooped her up in his arms, tucking her against his chest. He needed to remain calm for her sake, but the second he put her in the back seat of Bastion, laying down with her head in Hana’s lap, and took the wheel, he panicked.

“Fuck,” Jesse muttered to himself, not even bothering to close the garage door as they peel away. He couldn’t even pretend like he cared that he was speeding, determined to get Tracer to the Petras General Hospital before shit hit the fan even more. “Hana, use her phone. Call Mr. Shimada,”

He held his hand out, waiting for the device to be put into it before putting it up to his ear. It rang once, twice, a total for four times before the line goes live and he doesn’t have time to think about how Hanzo sounds exactly like he does when he calls Six Gun for a nighttime song.

“ _Lena, do you have any idea what time it is?_ ”

“Hanzo, it-”

“ _Mr. McCree?_ ” The man sounded surprised, but quickly masked it with anger. “ _It is Mr. Shima-_ ”

“Listen! Hanzo, it’s Pacer- it’s her tracermaker- shit!” He yelled, words jumbling together as he dodged traffic, leaned on his horn and sped more. Hell, he’d run right from the cops if they tried to stop him now, he still knew tricks, and he wasn’t about to let Tracer suffer because people on the road couldn’t get out of his way.

“ _... You are not making any sense._ ”

“Tracer. Pacemaker failure. Hospit- WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOIN’ JACKASS!” The phone slipped from his hand, clattering to the passenger side floor. “Motherfucker!”

Lucio, the saint, a ray of calm in the chaotic night, picked up the phone swiftly. “Pops- road.” He instructed, bringing the device to his ear. “Mr. Shimada- we’re heading toward PETRAS Gen. I dunno, she doesn’t look too hot. Yeah, she told us what to look for just in case. Not that dire, but enough.” There was a pause and Jesse could imagine that Hanzo’s angry yelling was coming loud and clear through the phone. “Pops’ll meet ya there.”

-

Jesse sat with his elbows on his knees, tired head barely propped up by his hands. The adrenaline was leaving him, slowly exhausting his body. He was just glad Tracer would be okay.

He closed his eyes, only for a minute, he swore, but a solid hand on his shoulder roused him.

When he looked up, he was met with quite possibly one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen in his life.

Hanzo Shimada, a man he’d never seen out of business clothing, was wearing more reasonable clothes. A thin white t-shirt was stretched in ungodly ways across broad shoulders, short sleeves revealing a tattoo that had no earthly right to immediately make him want to run his mouth along that dragon, and his athletic shorts were cut just the slightest bit too high revealing muscular shapely thighs. His hair, normally pristine and tied up, was in a half messed up bun, low on his neck. He was the picture of rolling out of bed and throwing something on - a look Jesse was now suddenly desperate to make him don more often.

His face, normally hard and angry, lips pressed together in a grim line, was soft, worried, but above all else, honest. “Mr. McCree-”

“Jesse.” He urged, voice deep and low, because by god he wanted to hear the man say it, see it come from his lips while he looked as he did.

Hanzo shifted, a brief flash of surprise flashing across his face before settling back into honesty. “Jesse… thank you.”

“Just doin’ what needed to be done, darlin’.”

There was the anger, the touch retracted instantly and a sneer aimed down at him. Critical eyes glanced at his hand and then his unfinished toe nails on his bare feet. “ _Disgusting,_ ” He hissed.

It honestly shouldn’t have excited McCree as much as it did.

“Mr. Shimada,” A large doctor called.

Hanzo immediately turned from McCree, briskly walking away as if Jesse hadn’t just saved his tenant’s life. “Dr. Winston, is she-”

“Quite fine, just a small…” The conversation faded as the two walked away toward the room Tracer was being monitored in.

No matter how far they got, Jesse kept his eyes firmly on one Mr. Hanzo Shimada and let out a low whistle. “ _Motherfucker…_ ” He whispered to himself. Infatuation indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter for Akirata who has suffered greatly at work and by my hands <3
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	6. Details

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of a 2 part chapter. This one is from Hanzo's perspective, the next will obviously be from McCree's.

Of all the things McCree had done or could ever do to throw a wrench in the gears of Hanzo’s life, bringing over a casserole would always be the worst. Honestly, who even did that anymore?

He arrived at Hanzo’s door the evening after Tracer had come home, well after dinner time, tin foil covered bakeware in his hands and an easy smile on his face. The brute’s presence took up his entire entryway and Hanzo wished he could slam the door on his face again.

But he owed the man for helping Tracer. His quick actions had gotten her to Dr. Winston before any damage could come from the malfunction. Hanzo genuinely thanked him, a moment ruined by an unwarranted nickname, but it was not an open invitation for McCree to come around whenever he wished.

“What brings you to my porch, Mr. McCree?” He asked sharply, narrowed eyes assessing the cleanliness of the man.

He thrusted the dish forward, forcing Hanzo to reach out and grab it lest it wind up on the ground. “Figured y’all didn’t have any proper meals at Petras- thought some home cookin’ would do y’all some good.”

Hanzo’s lip curled in distate, fingers bumping against McCree’s in the exchange. “It will not be.” He snapped.

Confusion colored the barbarian’s face. “Pardon?”

“It is not good for us. Genji is hardly home to eat, Tracer is peckish at best, and I _refuse_ to eat any of this abomination. There is far too much, even leftovers will go bad.”

“Sorry, I just assumed-”

“Precisely. You assumed. You do not know our eating habits at all. Furthermore,” he fixed McCree with a sharp glare. “It is an inappropriate time to bring food, this late at night.” He pushed the dish back into the cowed man’s hands. “Please leave.”

McCree, head bowed and eyes hidden in the shadow cast by the porch light, shuddered. Perhaps now the disgusting man was understanding how Hanzo felt and would stay away for good.

The thought vanished when the large man looked up, thick eyebrows furrowed. He wasn’t shaking in distress, he was quaking in anger.

“What the fuck did I ever do to you?” He snarled. “You been givin’ me a nasty eye from day one. All I ever tried to do was be a decent neighbor-”

“By destroying my flowers.” A petty thing in the grand scheme of it all.

McCree squared his shoulders and stood tall. “I fixed the damage caused by my kids - paid for them and put them in the ground myself.”

“They are the wrong colors.” He was reaching, trying to stem the man’s rage by proving that Hanzo was in the right.

“Then why don’t ya rip out of the ground? Oh, but then you’d lose that precious yard of the month award. Can’t have that after my _wrong flowers_ won it for you a second month in a row.”

Hanzo tipped his chin up in defiance. “You are _disgusting_ \- always covered in grease.”

It was the wrong thing to pokt; worse than the flowers. McCree looked furious. “Well excuse me for upkeepin’ my kids’ transportation. Don’t get the kind of money to buy new cars bein’ a-”  He stopped, the tide of anger receding suddenly. “Y’know what, yer right. I’m fucking filthy.”

The brute gave a nasty grin and tipped the bakeware upside down. Food spilled onto Hanzo’s porch with sickening splats and to add insult to injury, the bakeware was dropped to the ground. McCree kicked it inside, laughing as it left a trail down the hardwood flooring of the hallway.

“Mind the mess.”

Hanzo scowled, temper flaring. “Get off my property.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He made sure to slam the door loudly as the large man stomped off his lawn.

The next afternoon, Hana knocked meekly at his door and offered a small dish for Tracer. When she attempted to apologize for her father’s behavior, he stopped her with a raised hand and assured her that she and Lucio were still welcome in his home. Hanzo would not let their petty feud make the two young adults feel unwelcome in a place they had once felt safe.

-

_He was young, foolish and naive._

_The bed was lined in fine silk, the covers stuffed with the softest of down. It was the kind of bed that one yearned to be naked on, to feel it underneath every inch of skin possessed because nothing ever compared to the comfort._

_He stretched out like a cat, muscles quivering when they reached as far as they could. “My love, I was thinking we could take a vacation, just you and I.” He offered, sitting up and sweeping his hair over his bare shoulder. “What do you think, Koba?”_

_His lover sat on the edge of the bed, large and burly, hunched over with his face buried in his hands. “How long?”_

_“A week at least; a month at most. Things have been tense-”_

_“I meant how long have you been stealing money from my father?” Koba asked clearly, glaring over his shoulder._

_His heart thundered, but he remained calm on the outside. “Since he killed my father for control of Hanamura.”_

_Koba laughed, pulling a cigarette from the nightstand and lighting it. He took a long drag and released a plume of smoke as he spoke. “Call your brother.”_

_“What-”_

_“Do it!” His lover barked, angry, a far cry from the gentleness he usually displayed toward him._

_He fumbled for his phone, dread pricking at the back of his mind. There was no answer, so he tried again and still his brother refused to pick up the phone. “Koba… what is-” A hand was at his throat, throwing him to the bed and keeping him pinned._

_He struggled, used everything his father had taught him. No punches pulled, nails raked down Koba’s arm and his feet kicked wildly._

_“You’re lucky you’re a good fuck- you get to keep your pretty face. Without it, I’d dump you on the street like the trash you are.” His lover hissed, becoming every inch the snake that monikered his family’s name._

_He threw Koba off of him, scrambling back and touching his neck where he would be bruised for days to come. “What did you do!?” He cried._

_His lover laughed and his phone rang. “You should answer that. I’m sure you’re the only one who can identify your brother’s body.”_

-

Hanzo woke in a cold sweat, a memory surfaced as a nightmare twisting at his heart. What a fool he’d been in those days, so trusting of a warm smile and smooth words. Crinkling eyes and gentle hands had turned vicious in a heartbeat and betrayed Hanzo so deeply that it forever changed who he was.

For the first time in two weeks, he reached for his phone and punched in the radio station, autopilot telling him that there was someone he could trust. He could get close to Six Gun because they would never physically meet - Six Gun would never put his hand around Hanzo’s throat.

“ _Howdy partner, what bring ya ‘round these parts?_ ”

The classic greeting line soothed him instantly, began beating back the tender kisses of Koba that turned sour in an instant. “Good evening, Six Gun.” He responded slowly.

“ _Drifter! Ain’t heard from you in a while, sugar._ ”

A small smile formed on Hanzo’s lips. “It almost sounds like you missed me.”

Six Gun coughed, choking on air. “ _Well, yeah. A fella gets used to a nightly caller who gives as good as he takes._ ” An innuendo, but also a truth. More than once they had matches of wit, barbing each other back and forth until their laughter was the only thing on the air. “ _What can I do ya for, Drifter?_ ” His own name for the air, given how frequently he called in.

He clenched his eyes and took in a deep breath, pushing away the feeling of a hand wrapped around his neck. “I may have made a mistake with my neighbor.”

“ _Like the fun kinda mistake? Or the get your ass arrested mistake?_ ”

“Neither.” He was conflicted over the confrontation with McCree, insistent to keep the man at bay, but he felt horrible having spit in the face of kindness. Real kindness, not the softly spoken words of a snake. “I may have let a previous relationship of mine cloud my view of my neighbor - thus I have treated him in a very hostile manner.”

“ _What do ya mean?_ ”

Hanzo frowned, unsure how far into this he wanted to go. “This neighbor of mine, Mc- Mac. My neighbor Mac, he acts similarly to how my ex did. Kind and giving, dedicated to his family-”

“ _That don’t sound so bad._ ”

“It was not. Until I discovered it was an act. He was cruel, I was used, and my family suffered for my mistake because- because…” He trailed off. What was he doing, admitting to a total stranger that his family was targeted because Koba liked Hanzo as a trinket on his arm.

He wasn’t aware that he was sniffling until he heard the gentle shushes from Six Gun over the line. “ _Drifter, darlin’, whatever happened to ya. It seems to be hurtin’ ya real bad still._ ” He spoke, understanding. “ _You don’t gotta explain nothin’ you don’t wanna with Mc- Mac. At least try apologizin’, might go a long way if you’re interested in repairin’ that._ ”

“What if he is a snake in the grass as well?”

“ _That’s a risk we all take sometimes, darlin’. A risk you didn’t seem to mind takin’ with me._ ”

“You are not here.” He couldn’t hurt Hanzo.

“ _No, but there’s an awful lot o’ trust between us, right?_ ”

He was in deep with Six Gun, head over heels with a voice that he wished would hold him as he slept at night. “You are right; I trust you.”

-

Hanzo tapped his foot, not with impatience, but with anxiety. He clutched the two glass bakeware to his chest, cleaned up and ready to be returned.

After what felt like hours, the door opened, a sleep mused McCree standing before him. It was a sight to see the large man in a t-shirt that was two sizes too big and boxers. His hair was rumpled and it took him all of five second to realize who was standing at his door.

He went from confused to cold in a flash.

“I ain’t allowed near yer house so you gotta come to mine to pick at me more?” He sounded tired, not physically, but emotionally. “I ain’t got the sticks to deal that today, Hanzo.”

The door was halfway closed before Hanzo reacted, wedging his foot against the door so that it couldn’t be budged. “I am not here to pick on you.” He answered in the face of a critical sneer from the brute. “I am here to return these… and to apologize.”

McCree took the bakeware, but still eyed him skeptically.

“You have shown my brother, Tracer, and I nothing but kindness but I have never given you a chance.” Hanzo cleared his throat. “Well, before last night that is. I decided I could start by eating what was left of Tracer’s food. It was… rather good. I was hoping I might get a recipe from you.”

The other man narrowed his eyes. “Look, ya don’t gotta be friendly-”

“No, you were right, Mr. McCree. You have gone out of your way to make an effort and I have done nothing but put you down at any turn.”

“What’s bringin’ all this about? Are ya dyin’? No regrets before you pass?”

Hanzo couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out, short and sharp, perhaps more of a bark. “No, no. I assure you I am in good health.” He shook his head wistfully, of course the man wouldn’t understand. He’d no idea why Hanzo treated him so poorly in the first place. “I… had a heart to heart with a dear friend of mine.”

McCree looked stunned, but shook it off easy with a small, meek smile. “Well, I’m mighty glad you decided to come ‘round. Afraid I can’t give you the recipe,”

Hanzo bristled briefly before reminding himself that this man did not deserve his ire. “I understand, perhaps in the future when I have earned your trust.”

“Oh, nah. I’d love to give it to ya, Mr. Shimada, it’s just that one don’t exist.”

“I do not follow.”

McCree grinned. “My ma’s southern cookin’ charm. Just throw stuff together and eat what comes out, livin’ in the moment through food.”

Hanzo’s face fell, disheartened by the fact that he would be unable to recreate a good meal. If he was perfectly honest with himself, it had been one of the best he’d had in a long time. Long work hours and housemates who ate out more often than staying in and cooking made for unfavorable eating habits. The last time he had a meal, it’d been leftover pizza that Genji had brought home.

“I see,” he said, “Well, I am sorry to have wasted your time. And… I am sorry for how I have treated you.”

“Well now,” The man looked uncertain, almost confused as to why he’d spoken out in the first place. “I could always try to recreate it… as you said, I made too much- always do.”

Hanzo cocked an eyebrow at him, intrigued as to where this was going.

“Always got room at the table for a few more.”

The offer made Hanzo tense, as much as he desired to not let his past experiences of the past color his view of the man before him, the offer was quite soon in the light of a fresh apology. “We shall see,” How else could he respond? “Have a nice day, Mr. McCree.”

“Jesse.”

Hanzo shook his head, unwilling to slip into such close familiarity so soon. “McCree.” He compromised, and was surprised when that earned him a smile.

-

And see they did, Hanzo, Genji, and Tracer joined McCree’s household for dinner not soon after, leading slowly into a routine. Eventually, it was not uncommon for all of them to be joined under one roof for a meal cooked to perfection.

The dinners allowed Hanzo to safely assess McCree, listening to the man’s tales while safely surrounded by others. Where he was afraid he would find a devil, he found a man with good intentions.

It wasn’t long before Hanzo began offering to help prepare the food, making sides and supplying the more unusual ingredients to the concoctions. He was delighted to find that McCree enjoyed testing new things in their meals, unafraid to throw things together or take advice from Hanzo. He took joy in taste testing the food before it was served - not that anything ever came out bad, but he was secretly thrilled that he was able to taste it before everyone else.

They formed an easy routine, one that slid into Hanzo’s schedule easily enough. After a day of working, he would wander over to McCree’s home and they would discuss what kind of meal they wanted that day. Light or heavy, savory or tangy. And not long after beginning the preparation, the kids and Tracer would come home.

Two weeks felt like two years, and he found himself discovering key pieces of the man he called a neighbor. He worked strange hours, more often than not Hanzo was the one to wake him up and dinner was more akin to breakfast for McCree. He was dedicated, giving everything he had and earned to his kids, wanting to see them succeed in life.

He began to notice small details of the man he had overlooked, vision clouded by red. The man sported a few tattoos, though he’d only been able to get a good look at one before a shirt covered them - a revolver lying in a bed of roses, each a different color. He had a wicked sense of humor, unafraid to poke at the little things when he wasn’t worried about trying to play good neighbor.

He was missing an arm and Hanzo didn’t pry into the story, but McCree allowed him to hold the cybernetic arm and assess the craftsmanship. Finely made out of strong metal, it was as much a work of art as it was a prosthetic.

Everything was good.

Even then, it could not always remain that good.

It all came to a head just a few days before Halloween, the air crisp and the night dark. The kids were gone for the night at an away game, opting to spend the night in a hotel rather than drive four hours in the dead of night when it was over.

McCree seemed surprised when Hanzo showed up still, as if he thought the man would not prefer his company. Hanzo laughed and shouldered his way in with a brief ‘I was thinking of making something spicy tonight.’ which was met with enthusiastic agreement.

The meal was great, small and filling with only the slightest bit of leftovers that Hanzo offered to take home for Genji when he deigned to return.

With a smile, he cut their conversation of the potential for life on mars short. He promised to return, a surprise in tow.

It was wine, a fine vintage that he thought the southern man might enjoy. A deep red with a strong burn, the perfect drink to sip as they talked. Oh, how he loved their talks. Nothing was pressured, there were no pretences. He found McCree to have an open mind and a plethora of stories - the wine was the least he could do to return the favor as none of Hanzo’s stories were good for light natured evenings.

The whistling caught his attention first, just like the day Jesse had planted the flowers by his window. How far they’d come, or rather, he’d come. Pushing past the illusion of Koba painted over Jesse’s form, he’d built a tolerance for the unsightly habits of the brute.

Grease smudges meant he’d been fixing the car for Hana and Lucio again - providing.

Dirt meant he’d been gardening - bringing life.

Sweat meant he’d been working - creating.

Still disgusting, but not as barbaric as he’d once seen them.

The whistling gave way to humming, a sweet tune that had Hanzo creeping back in the house slowly, shutting the door as quiet as he could. It should have been a sin with how perfect Jesse’s deep barrel chest was for humming, creating music in the air.

He just barely reached the kitchen when the words came forth in a deep pitch that both warmed his soul but stopped his heart cold.

_Sweet dreams ‘till sunbeams find you._

_Sweet dreams to leave all worries behind you._

_But in yer dreams, whatever they be._

_Dream a lil’ dream o’ me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the wonderful Akirata - I'm so glad I met you <3 Enjoy your feelings, my dear.
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	7. Spice of Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A late birthday gift for Akirata! A surprise-ish chapter for them :)  
> Wrote two of these buggers while they worked on other stuff, lots of love, hun <3

Jesse didn’t hold grudges for long - especially when the person he held it against called him, worried for their actions. Realizing that one had done something to wrong another was strength, actively seeking to right it was a heroic feat.

He couldn’t hold the tiff on the doorstep against Hanzo for much longer after he called in and opened up to Six Gun. So many things made sense to him after that call - the anger, the unbased hatred, and perhaps what was cleared up the most was the sudden snap at the hospital after calling Hanzo ‘ _darlin’_ ’. If Jesse were already tainted with the image of a sour affair, a nickname with an affectionate connotation was sure to make the man throw up his walls.

Drifter had a devil on his back and while Jesse McCree agitated the beast, Six Gun could soothe it.

That’s not to say Jesse wasn’t wary when Hanzo came around with washed dishes and a bid for his recipe. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be belittled. He was sure it was going to happen when he mentioned that he didn’t go by recipes, he just threw stuff together and prayed for the best.

‘Barbaric,’ He imagined the clean cut man saying. ‘One day you will poison your kids, or hopefully yourself.’

But instead, Hanzo offered apologies, followed advice given to him by a close friend.

It made Jesse feel sleazy. Here he was, the object of hatred for Hanzo, but also the salvation to his rage and a man he professed deep secrets to.

Yeah, secrets professed over public radio, but he highly doubted anyone knew who Drifter was in real life. The only time Hanzo’d given his name was for the birthday song - and after that it was anonymous, and the man didn’t seem to mind the name. He even chuckled as Six Gun explained ‘ _It’s cause you drift in an’ out of my life, sugar._ ’ A statement more true than Hanzo realized.

Jesse felt a little wrong using his good standing with the man as Six Gun to wring an apology out of Hanzo, but in all honesty, he hadn’t expected the man to act on it. He’d expected for Hanzo to make an effort of being a decent neighbor, but the apology was just a wistful dream for Jesse.

It was surprising when it came true.

It threw him off his game, caused him to flounder in his own doorway and when he offered an invitation to dinner, he knew he was pushing too far too fast. They’d only apologized for what happened, as far as Hanzo knew, Jesse wasn’t aware of _why_ he was so hostile toward him.

If Hanzo ever decided to ask, Jesse would claim it was for the sake of their kids’ friendship. He knew Hana and Lucio were still welcome at the Shimada residence and Jesse wanted to make it clear that all of them were welcome at Casa McCree.

That was his story, and he was sticking to it. The invitation definitely had nothing to do with wanting to be closer to the accountant other than fond relationship on the radio.

And oh boy was Six Gun fond. Jesse actively waited for and enjoyed the calls from Hanzo, the Drifter of his show. He somehow figured out that if he were to announce a music break coming up soon, Hanzo would call in, keeping him on the air. He knew his voice was what made him popular, but he couldn’t help but hope that Hanzo kept coming around for the company as well.

-

_“Gabe, I’m tellin’ ya man. I’m fuckin’ tired. I need a break from all of this.” Jesse argued, sitting on the edge of a bed with the sheets drawn over his lap. His muscles ached something fierce and all he wanted to do was get dressed and go for a long smoke._

_His producer wasn’t having it. “McCree, we’ve got a shoot to finish.” The man said sternly, unwavering._

_Jesse, younger, was not as intimidating as he would be in the future, but he tried his damned hardest. “I don’t mean the shoot, Gabe. I want out for good, right now.” He hadn’t meant to bring this up in the studio, in front of the cameramen. Quitting was a better conversation for an office space, not a bed surrounded by lights and cameras._

_Gabe sighed, face scrunching in annoyance. “You signed the contract kid,” He gruffed, crossing his arms. “Five more films.”_

_“I don’t got five more films in me,” He protested. “I’m tired all the time, don’t get to see my kids. Hell, they’re getting old enough that they could figure it out any day now.”_

_“They won’t find out shit, McCree. We agreed to keep your face off the camera, just like you agreed to_ five more _.”_

_It spilled out, faster than it should have honestly, but it was turning point in his life. It was something that made him rethink what he was doing - porn paid nice, but it came at a price when one had kids pushing at high school graduation._

_“I caught my son lookin’ at one of my ads. I’m done.” The words were final._

_Gabe had other thoughts, crossing the room swiftly and grabbing Jesse’s scruffed cheeks in one harsh grip. “Five more.” He snarled._

-

They say it’s a small world, but that still doesn’t help Jesse cope with what he saw outside of Hanzo’s house when he woke up that afternoon.

A motorcycle pulled up, loud and drawing his attention, and when he peeked out the window, he watched as Genji pulled off a helmet and hopped off the back.

Jesse wasn’t a snoop, but he was curious. Anything out of place and off-schedule at the Shimada residence was intriguing, it didn’t happen often and when it did, it was hard not to notice how riled Hanzo got with it all.

He watched Genji closely, seeing the man lean against the handlebars salaciously and walk his fingers up the driver’s leather jacket clad arm. Jesse felt as though he was intruding, about to turn away and go see what he had to make for dinner, when the driver removed his helmet.

The sharp, scarred grin made his blood run cold. Thick curled hair and an undercut brought back memories from days of exhaustion, of a man who was willing to make sure you were okay but demanded obedience and loyalty in his company. Jesse was good at reading people most of the time, but Gabriel Reyes was never someone he could get a bead on.

That fact was only reinforced when he watched Genji lean forward to bump foreheads with him, kissing a bronze nose before leaving with a smile. Innocent and sweet, a gesture he’d never seen Gabe participate in.

As quick as he appeared, the man rode off, leaving no trace of ever having been on the street.

It left Jesse in a muddied state, trying to piece together how Genji knew the porn producer. If Genji knew Gabe, how much about Jesse did he know? Five years in the industry didn’t just disappear.

Questions and thoughts about his past bubbling forth spun around and around, drawing him down into his own mind. He was so deep that he jumped, physically, when there was sharp knock at his door.

He grumbled as he trudged to the door, opening it just a crack to see who was out there.

Imagine his surprise when it was Hanzo, unfortunately in his sleek white button up and slacks, and his brother on his porch.

“Oh uh, hey there Mr. Shimada. Somethin’ I can help you with?” He asked, eyes flicking over to Genji, assessing if the younger man knows anything.

Hanzo snorted and tipped his chin up, a regal picture. “I do believe you said you always had room for a few more at your table?”

Jesse blanched, staring at the two before jumping to action. He opened his door wide and motioned them inside, only sneaking a glance at the clock on the microwave as they passed the kitchen. It was nearly 7 o’clock already- he must have really been out of it. Sometimes seeing a ghost did that to a man, he supposed.

“I ain’t got dinner started yet, it’ll be no longer than an hour.” He hollered into his living room, his feet leading him into the kitchen to get things started.

“That is quite alright. It will give Tracer and your kids a chance to get home, will it not?”

“Right,” He muttered to himself. “Right.” He pulled out potatoes, sour cream, cheese, corn, and various other items to throw into the dish. Jesse tried valiantly to ignore that the man of his affections and the man of his worries were sitting side by side in his living room, waiting to eat his food. What would happen if Genji told Hanzo anything that Gabe knew? Any tenuous respect would vanish in an instant.

“McCree,”

The voice, so close, made him jump, wooden spoon flying from his hand and landing on the floor with a clatter. He looked up and found Hanzo standing in the port for the kitchen, eyes hyperfocused on the utensil before snapping to Jesse. “If it is an inconvenient night, perhaps one could be planned for the future.”

Jesse bent for the spoon, tossing it in the sink and grabbing another. “Nah, it’s alright.”

“Is there anything I can do to assist you?”

“Uh,” Jesse glanced around, taking stock of all there was to do. “If ya wouldn’t mind gratin’ the potatoes, that’d be nice.”

Hanzo hummed in acknowledgement, rolling up his sleeves and grabbing the spuds. “Do you have a peeler?”

“In the drawer by the fridge.”

A blanket of ease settled over them, each quietly working on their tasks. The calm atmosphere is only broken a few times by Genji laughing at something, presumably a text - something that makes Jesse sweat.

Jesse and Hanzo make light conversation - weather, the kids’ soccer practice - and chat softly until the other three arrive.

Dinner is an uproar, Hana yells over Lucio, Tracer goes a million miles a minute in updating Hanzo about her day. The accountant smiles and nods, listening intently to every word with a smile on his face. He cares about what she says, does the same when Genji or Jesse’s own kids start talking to him. There isn’t much response by way of words, but the kids pick up on his expressions as feedback.

A raised eyebrow met with a ‘I couldn’t believe it either’.

A tightening of lips responded with ‘don’t worry, we made it on time’.

There is nothing he doesn’t pick up on.

It made Jesse wonder if the man hadn’t already picked up on his radio secret.

-

One evening as Hanzo neatly chopped strawberries, he pressed further than their idle conversation. “How did you come to have Hana and Lucio?”

Jesse paused in his crushing of walnuts, glancing to his side to see the man smiling in his task. An honest question with good intentions - an attempt to be better. “I was in the Big Brother program,” He admits, meeting the honesty with his own. “Lucio was the little shit I was paired with and boy,” he whistled, starting back up with his task. “He was little.

“Foster kid, took a real shine to me, even in the beginnin’ when I wanted as little to do with him as possible. Started bringin’ around his foster sister as well, smaller than he was.” Jesse’s voice faltered for a moment, frowning. “Both of them too small- and that’s what tipped me off.

“One of them large foster homes, too many kids, parents didn’t give enough of a shit. I thought I was doing the right thing when I reported those assholes, but I didn’t know then… they don’t whip those parents into shape, they just move the kids.”

Hanzo stopped his chopping, reaching over to place a steady hand on his shoulder. It was an offer and support all at once; it gave Jesse a way out of his tale but also let him know that the other man understood.

“I ain’t never had a heartbreak as big as when they told me they were takin’ away my kids. _My kids_ ,” He laughed. “Up until that point I was just their big brother who took care of ‘em when their parents weren’t payin’ attention. By god, they were _mine_. Came cryin’ to me and I couldn’t just… abandon them like that.

“So I took ‘em. Got the paperwork all sorted out, went to court a few times, and at the end of it all, I was nineteen and raisin’ kids.”

Hanzo looked at him, eyes widened. “Nineteen?”

“I fought for ‘em. Learned some legal bullshit to make sure I was doin’ everything right.” He chuckled, low and relieved. “Grew ‘em strong and worked my ass off for them. Every penny is theirs.”

The accountant squeezed his shoulder, smiled at him, “That was a brave thing for someone so young.”

It twisted at his insides, flared brightly and in that moment all Jesse wanted to do was break down and tell Hanzo about Six Gun. _Brave_. It certainly would be… but that night he was every ounce the chicken shit kid he was when he signed that contract selling out his mates for freedom.

-

Two weeks was all it took for Jesse to become absolutely smitten with his neighbor. Glimpses of that dragon tattoo when he rolled up his sleeves to help drove him wild. Hell, Jesse had to go take a long smoke when Hanzo let his hair down to re-tie it, locks like ink pooling over his shoulders.

The kids were out, staying at a hotel after a game a few hours away, leaving Jesse on his own.

He wasn’t expecting Hanzo to join him for dinner, but when the man showed up on his doorstep, Jesse was thankful for the boxer briefs he wore and the thick, plush new sweatpants he’d gotten. As if he wasn’t sinful enough, more muscular than an accountant had any right being, he was sporting Jesse’s flannel shirt.

His _favorite_ , pink flannel shirt.

It pulled tight across his chest, the sleeves rolled up to reveal that wicked tattoo and to top it all off, or rather, bottom it all out, he wore jeans that clung to his thighs. “I was thinking of making something spicy tonight.” He suggested, sauntering inside like he owned the place.

It took Jesse a moment to catch up, chasing after him into the kitchen. “I can make a mean taco stew, light yer britches on fire if you’re not careful.”

The food was ready quickly and they ate in peace, occasional jabs flung between them with mirth. Comfortable in their companionship, not quite to friends but certainly more than neighbors by this point. Hanzo cut into their conversation, declaring he’d left something important at his own home and that he’d be back shortly.

Jesse took the time to clean up from their meal and pack away the leftovers. With Hanzo gone, he quickly became aware of how frequent their other’s presence had become in his life. Only two days out of the two weeks had he not eaten with the accountant.

He dwelled on feelings, a desire for more of that comfortable companionship with the man. A pleasing sensation at seeing the other man in _his_ clothes, parading around with no idea what the sight was doing to Jesse.

Fond. He whistled as worked, the sound fading into humming and then into words.

_Sweet dreams ‘till sunbeams find you._

_Sweet dreams to leave all worries behind you._

_But in yer dreams, whatever they be._

_Dream a lil’ dream o’ me._

He swayed with the music, hummed through a few lyrics he couldn’t quite remember the words to, and just when he was about to start again, a loud thunk of a bottle hitting the ground makes him jolt.

Jesse spun on he heel and found Hanzo, staring at him, eyes wide. It seemed like every emotion on the spectrum flashed across his sharp face before settling on scorn.

It hits him too late, the song is from Six Gun. He’s sang it to Hanzo multiple times to soothe the man in the middle of the night.

“Hanzo, I can-”

The accountant fled from his house before he could finish, before he could explain.

In the end, he was left with too much stew left and a bottle of wine on the floor, unopened and meant for them to share. A bitter reminder that he’s probably the worst neighbor in the world.

-

Calls go unanswered, the door does as well - no matter what he tried, Jesse couldn’t get ahold of Hanzo. He wanted to apologize, to set things right. To at least explain his side before the man writes him off forever.

By the second day of trying, he decided he needed a drink. He drove to the strip of bars just outside Athena University’s campus, parked and wandered. None of them looked appealing to him, and he felt as though he looked too old to even be hanging around here, but he wanted somewhere to be sad and alone- to drown his own stupidity.

Why’d he have to go and sing _that_ song? Of all the ones he knew, he picked that one.

Slender arms wrapped around his suddenly, a shock of green hair leaning against his arm. “You look lost, Jesse.” Genji coos. “I’m surprised you are not eating with my brother.”

Jesse pursed his lips, looked away and to the ground.

As if he knew exactly what was going on, Genji gasped and tugged. “Drinking it is, come. I know a great bar.”

He let himself be dragged, not even bothering to check the name of the bar before he was pulled inside and sat at a table. Genji bounced over to the bar, spoke quickly to the bartender, and then took a seat across from him.

“Drinks are on me, for whatever my brother managed to fuck up this time.” He hummed. “Still sorry about the whole… barbarian thing. He might have been better at studies, but he was never very good about keeping his opinion to himself.”

“Actually,” Jesse mumbled, wringing his hands together. “I think I was the one to fuck this one up.”

Genji, always on the move and just slightly unreadable for Jesse, seemed to soften. He grabbed for Jesse’s hands, holding them tightly and making sure that he had his complete attention. “Whatever it is,” He started. “I would like to help you fix it. Your friendship is good for Hanzo - both on and off the air, Six Gun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	8. Something Like This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sad chapters are over, I promise. Now back to your regularly scheduled campy chapters.  
> I got this out real fast so please let me know if there's any blatant errors! <3
> 
> You also get to see a glimpse of my raretrio, join me in hell.

“Genji, we are going to be late!”

The sound of thunderous, rapid footsteps are followed swiftly by a loud thud and a yelp. “Give me five minutes!”

Hanzo rolled his eyes and adjusted his cape with a huff. Leave it to his brother to force him into attending a party and then make them late for it. Although, the extra time allowed the accountant to properly adhere the false fangs to his teeth.

He was dressed as a regal vampire with a frilled shirt and a tight vest. He loathed leaving the top buttons of his shirt undone, but if he’d taken the larger size to accommodate his abundant chest, he’d be swimming in the rest of the garment.

Plus, Genji had abruptly ripped the costume from his hands after he’d exited the fitting room and purchased it - insisted it was perfect match.

“Alright, let’s go. Tracer’s already waiting on us.” His brother chirped behind him.

Turning to face him, Hanzo spoke. “I believe that is your-” His words died on his tongue when he caught sight of his brother’s costume. “Genji.”

The younger Shimada, in what was definitively not a vampire costume, struck a pose. His shirt and shorts were grungy, black and white striped, ripped, and one size too small. He wore a similarly patterned cap and smudged makeup on his cheeks and hands to imitate dirt. “What do you think?”

“I think that is not a vampire.” Hanzo hissed.

Genji chuckled, sheepish and scratching at the back of his head which disrupted the placement of his cap. “I was gonna, but Zen came back last week and he really wanted to do matching costumes.”

It didn’t add up.

Genji asked and dragged Hanzo to pick out the costume just two days ago, begging him to be a vampire with him so he didn’t feel out of place. So unless Genji’s friend waited until the last second to ask, his brother was lying. And the complexity of his convict costume said the whole thing was planned from the start.

He decided not to bring it up, doing so was pointless as the costumes had been purchased and he was already being dragged out of the house and shoved into his car.

-

‘Blackwatch Bar’ was in bright purple neon cursive above the door. Appropriately, the walls inside and outside of the place were made of brinks painted black. It wasn’t what he expected, honestly.

Knowing Genji’s past taste for loud, bass heavy music and throngs of people, he was surprised when the bar turned out to be an _actual bar_ and not some club that happened to have a bar section. There was room to move without grinding against someone and one could talk at a reasonable volume and be heard by one’s company at a table.

That wasn’t to say the place was empty - people milled about, predatory for an open table to sit down at. Men and women in boisterous costumes prowled the floor, and when one claimed a place of their own, would cry out to their companions through the bar ‘I got a table for us!’, ignoring the state of cleanliness.

Hanzo took note of a few people that he would be wary for throughout the night, old habits dying hard from his time as a gang leader’s son. He knew Genji was just as hyperaware, though he displayed it less outwardly so; an enviable trait.

There was a group of two women, crowded into a table tucked in the corner. A blonde woman who rested her hand easily within the grasp of a woman with dark hair in plaits around her face. A hawk, with eyes that watched the room vigilantly, likely of military background.

He was a tad concerned for the professional level of the bar when he spied two men in cop costumes embracing - rather intertwining - at the bar… whilst behind the bar. The larger of the two covered the other, leaning down to whisper quietly. A private moment in an open space.

Before he was aware of what was happening, Genji bolted past him with a shout of “Zen!” and vaulted over the bartop. The two men slowly removed themselves from each other and Genji was quick to grab the smaller man and pluck him from the space of the larger.

Hanzo, now that he could see the young man, recognized the face of Genji’s best friend. The Nepalese boy had been over to his house enough times, and it was rather comical to see him nearly swimming in his cop costume.

Unlike the larger man who watched Zenyatta and Genji chat animatedly with an exasperated look. His costume was tighter, shorter, fitted to a body that the man was clearly unafraid to flaunt. He ran a hand through dark curls and sighed. “Genji, I thought we were all dressing as officers.”

His brother, the double traitor, grinned and leaned against the bar like he belonged back there. “Come on, Gabe, this is way more fun.”

Gabe, the large man, rolled his eyes.

Genji turned and crooked a finger at Hanzo, beckoning him closer.

“Hanzo, this is Gabe, he owns the bar. Gabe, this is Hanzo… my brother with a stick up his-”

Zenyatta was a small blessing, covering Genji’s mouth with his hands and keeping him effectively shut. “It is good to see you again, Hanzo.”

Hanzo nodded in response. “Good to see you returned safely.”

“I had intended to stay longer, but I was informed that _someone_ was getting into trouble without my presence.”

“I apologize on his behalf.”

“Do not worry about it. I am rather glad to be back; while I love my brother, we do not always get along.”

“Trust me, I do know that feeling.”

“And it is always entertaining with Genji.” of whom had not stopped struggling the entire time. Zenyatta glanced over his shoulder at the large man and smiled. “Forgive me, I interrupted your introduction.”

Gabe grinned and took a few steps forward, nearly crushing Zenyatta and his brother as he leaned over the bar and extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Hanzo. I’ve heard a lot.”

The accountant returned the gesture, although with far less crushing of those smaller than him. “All embarrassing, I am sure.”

“Isn’t that how it always is?” The man responded, chuckling.

Genji finally slipped from Zenyatta’s hold and leaned on the bar, a smug smirk on his face. “Hey Haaaaanzo.” He cooed.

He didn’t like that tone, that was always the sound of something going incredibly wrong for Hanzo. “What?”

“Can you go in the back and grab my case of beer from the walk-in?” He glanced up to the large bar owner. “You don’t mind, right Gabe? Of course not.” His gaze settled back on Hanzo. “It’s the special kind, imported from Japan. You know the one.”

Hanzo did, indeed, know the one. He gave no verbal answer but turned with a flourish of his cape and made his way to where he could only assume the back of the bar was.

When he heard Genji dropping sultry lines - “Are you gonna _frisk_ me, officers?” - Hanzo couldn’t walk away any faster.

Finding the walk-in refrigerator was easy enough, finding the beer was not so. He couldn’t see the small, wooden crate he expected amongst the chilled food and beverages.

If he ever found it, he was going to steal two of them from Genji, payment for services rendered, of course.

“Right in here?”

The voice made Hanzo freeze in place, the drawl so familiar despite the days avoiding it at all costs.

It brought up things he was resolute to ignore - the neighbor, the radio host, the voice. The man was a snake, a liar and Hanzo had been right all along despite the man’s attempts to convince him otherwise…. About himself.

“Yeah. I’m too short to reach it and I cannot find the ladder.” Was that Genji?

A chuckle, rough and deep. Something that once warmed Hanzo now made him see red - it was laughter at his expense. “And you couldn’t ask Gabriel?” McCree sounded venomous when he spat the name.

“Gabe is busy at the bar, and it’ll only take a second.”

There was nowhere to hide - at least, nowhere that wouldn’t make it painfully obvious he was hiding. And it was far too late to run.

McCree entered the walk-in and froze, a deer caught in headlights and Hanzo was no better off. Tension strung tight between them, shrinking the accountant’s world down to the small pinprick of a space he now occupied with a man he was desperately trying to ignore. Forever.

The door to the walk-in closed, locking with a distinct click.

The triple traitor.

The other man rushed to the door, grunting with effort as he tried to wrench it open. “Genji! What the fuck!?”

“Work it out! I’ll be back later!”

-

An hour apparently did not constitute as ‘late’ to his brother. For an hour Hanzo kept McCree away with scathing glares and the man began pacing roughly half an hour ago, going stir crazy. A caged beast.

The radio host was dressed as a vampire hunter - turtle neck, trench coat, and a strangely shaped hat. He was outfitted with props like crosses and wooden stakes and there were what appeared to be fang punctures on his neck with fake blood trickling out. A nice touch.

“I’m sorry.”

The words, so suddenly breaking the silence, jolted Hanzo from his thoughts. He scowled in response, on the defensive. “You expect me to believe that after you manipulated me?”

“I didn’t-”

“You did. I believe it was you who encouraged me to apologize to you.”

McCree flinched. “I wasn’t expectin’ you to actually do it - and I was alright with that.”

Hanzo eyed him warily. “Alright with what?”

The humorless chuckle washed a cold feeling over Hanzo, though he blamed the refrigerator at the time.

“Look, you despised me-”

“I did not-”

“You did. But that’s okay, I’m overbearin’ and it’s not somethin’ everyone’s alright with.” He took a deep breath, pinching at his nose.

It appeared he was trying to piece together words and despite how much Hanzo didn’t want to be in the same space as the man, the accountant was well aware how far being respectful could go toward getting someone to leave you alone in the long run.

“You called the station and I thought ‘haha, it’s just a one time thing’ but then ya kept callin’ and - Lord, I enjoyed it when you called. It felt nice bein’ able to talk to ya, even though I knew you’d never come within’ five feet of me willingly.

“Then we fought and then you called me and broke down on live air so I did what I do best- I comforted you, as a friend. Despite what fight Mr. Shimada and Mr. McCree were havin’, I knew that Drifter needed someone to talk to.”

Hanzo curled his lip at the memory, something once comforting, in which he had been soothed by a sultry voice, now marred by the lies behind it. “You manipulated-”

“I told ya, I didn’t expect that part to stick. Look, Han- Mr. Shimada.” The radio host rubbed at his temples. “I fucked up. I wanted to tell ya, knew I had to eventually cause it wasn’t right for me to keep that from ya. I don’t know how to fix it, don’t know if anything can be fixed, but I can’t live right without lettin’ you know I meant every word.

“No matter who I was, Six Gun or noisy neighbor Mac, I ain’t never lied to you.”

Hanzo kept quiet. Too many feelings rubbed raw at the confession - something he’d never expected from the man. He expected laughs about having ‘pulled one over on him’, jeers and taunts about him crying or about him crawling to the voice of Six Gun ever night. None of it came; all McCree had to offer was honesty and good intentions gone wrong by things falling into place at the wrong time.

“Might as well tell ya,” He spoke again, a small chuckle. “We’re in here cause of Genji.”

“That much was obvious.”

The radio host shook his head. “Nah, I mean like… I was hurtin’ real bad after you ran out. Genji caught me and well, tomorrow evenin’ he was gonna invite you to a dinner and never show cause I was gonna show up instead… to talk.” He sighed. “Looks like he took matters into his own hands. I’m only dressed like this cause he told me he’d be a vampire to my vampire hunter, the little shit.” A quadruple traitor.

The man was deflecting, trying to fill the empty space around them with words because Hanzo didn’t know how to respond. What could he respond with? Things wouldn’t be the same, he couldn’t find a good friend in McCree whilst simultaneously craving his voice. He didn’t know if he could be open with Six Gun again, knowing it was his neighbor listening to every word.

It changed everything, so much that it scared Hanzo because he had no idea how to handle it.

“I see he also roped you into it.”

Hanzo blinked owlishly. “Into what?”

“Bein’ an ac- _count_ -ant.” He said with a grin.

Hanzo scowled, eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his lips from quirking in an attempt to smile.

Silence settled back over them and McCree started browsing the shelves of the walk-in, reading labels and occupying himself.

“Perhaps,” Hanzo spoke suddenly, making McCree jump and nearly drop the bottle he was holding. “Perhaps things cannot go back to how they were.”

The other man looked crestfallen, a decidedly unflattering appearance.

“But… I did enjoy speaking with you. I enjoy it even now, when I am trying to be upset at you still.” Hanzo took in a deep breath, remembering a deep voice giving him words of wisdom over the radio, sincere and caring; ‘ _That’s a risk we all take sometimes, darlin’_ ’. The context was close enough, to trust that McCree would not turn around and be a snake once more. “I am willing… to continue our friendship, McCree. One more chance.”

“A chance is all I could ask for-”

Hanzo held up a hand to silence him. “I do not give many second chances, but you have become an important piece of my life. You are the father of my charge’s friends. You are my neighbor. And through a strange series of events, you have become someone who knows my fears.” He cast his eyes to the ground, softening. “Do not make me regret this.”

There was a rustle followed by a pop and a hiss, bottles opening. Glancing up, he found McCree had dragged a crate out and pulled two beers from it, opening the beverages. To make the gesture grander, it was the imported beer he’d been searching for. Looks like he was getting his payment of two bottles after all.

McCree offered one to him with a little shake, smiling when it was taken without remark. “Cross my heart, Mr. Shimada, won’t let you down. I’m already mighty fond of this friendship.”

“Hanzo, please.”

McCree smiled around the opening of his bottle. “Only if ya call me Jesse.”

The accountant shook his head. “We shall see, in time.” He raised the bottle, pleased when the radio host returned the gesture, grinning wider now. Hanzo watched raptly as he took a large swig, rough and tumble and somehow, exactly what Hanzo had imaged Six Gun to be. Honest and kind. “McCree,”

The other man paused mid-gulp and stared at him, prompting Hanzo to continue with a hum.

“Is it… would it… Could I still call you? While you are at work?”

Infectious. The large smile plastered across McCree’s face was bright, warming, and Hanzo found himself smiling into his own beer to hide just how much the sight affected him.

“Drifter, I’d be insulted if ya didn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -bangs pots and pans- I love reap/gen/zen or as Aki and I call it, Edjiyatta... get it, cause reaper is edgy = edji ahahaha -sad finger guns-
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	9. The Sheriff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a long time since I've updated this thing, holy crap!
> 
> If there are any errors, please let me know so I can fix them asap!

Looking back, Jesse’d always tell the story like so: the two of them, trapped in a refrigerator, nothing but alcohol and each other to keep warm. Genji had obviously forgotten about them, or lost track of time while schmoozing out in the bar. So it was just Jesse and Hanzo, relationship mended and perhaps pushing further.

The grandkids will always have to suffer through Jesse going on about just how cold Hanzo was, miserable and desperate for warmth. They’ll have to listen to - many times told - the story of their first kiss, which burned so brightly that it spoiled some of the meat in that fridge.

Of course, Hanzo will always catch him in the middle of his tale, quiet him and tell the grandkids the truth: their relationship was not a decision, it was not a sudden happening.

The relationship of Jesse McCree and Hanzo Shimada was more like a courting, only neither of them knew it. It manifested in a way of life that fit them as well as a pair of old, worn jeans.

The fridge was just the beginning of it all.

And it was a very short beginning.

Jesse had just polished off another bottle when the door was opened and suddenly Hanzo was out.

Genji’s cheerful questioning was cut short by a shriek as his brother launched himself after him. In the blink of an eye, both Shimada men were gone.

The radio host took another bottle for the road as he exited the cold storage, popping it open using a stainless steel counter edge. A more vindictive part of him smiled smugly at the angry scratches the bottle cap left, the flaw would bother Gabe if the man’s need to have tidy surroundings still existed.

Was it petty? Sure.

Was it childish? Absolutely.

Did he really care? Not really.

He took a seat at the bar, on the furthest side from where Gabe was currently leaning and talking to a smaller man.

The matching cop uniforms made him squint in suspicion- it wasn’t too long ago that he saw his ex-boss getting cozy with Genji in the street. He didn’t remember Gabe being that kind of guy, but four years could change a man.

“Your face will stick that way, y’know.” Came a chirp from beside him.

Genji, returned and unharmed it seemed, knocked against him with his shoulder, taking the seat next to Jesse. He plucked the bottle from Jesse’s hand and took a long drink, smacking with a satisfied sigh as he pulled off of it.

“Isn’t he cute?”

He couldn’t help the disgust that twisted at his face. “Hell no.” Gabe was anything but cute.

Genji snorted, replaced the half-drunk bottle in his hands. “Not tall, dark, and brooding. Zen- cute, right?” He jabbed a finger toward the smaller man.

“Not my type.” He gruffed. “But yeah.”

“Your type is silent with a stick up their ass, yeah?”

Jesse declined a reply.

Even in the midst of the bar where party goers came in and out along with the passing waves of patrons who desired to get drunk and barhop on Halloween, a quiet little bubble formed around them. Genji would continuously take the bottle from Jesse’s hands and drink from it, only to replace it. The radio host hadn’t taken a sip since he sat down, focusing on not focusing on Gabe, and he wondered why the younger Shimada wouldn’t just take it and keep it.

His past told him there was a certain satisfaction in the action of taking, even with something so mundane.

“Where’s Hanzo?” Jesse finally asked.

“He went home.”

“Was he mad?” He seemed like the kind of guy who’d be mad at his brother for tricking him and then locking him in a walk-in fridge. He also seemed mighty pissed when he chased after Genji.

The other man shrugged. “Kinda. Mad at me for making him dress like a vampire, but he seemed… glad that I forced you two to talk.”

“I know the feelin’.”

Genji stole the bottle for the last time, emptying it. “Hey! You two matched and if he’d stayed, neither of you would have been out of place.”

The radio host gave his costume a quick once over. “You look out of place.”

“Do I?” He smiled something evil and raised the empty bottle, wiggling it in his hand. “Oh, Mr. Officer!” He cooed loudly.

In all his years working for Gabe, with all the bullshit the producer had put up with, Jesse had never heard him groan so exasperatedly. And even when it had come close, he’d never seen the man follow when beckoned with anything less than full respect.

“Genji-”

“Can we get two beers? They’re on me.” Genji winked, leaning on the bar and squeezing his pecs together to imitate cleavage.

Gabe wasn’t having it and swept his hand at the kid’s elbows, making him crumple and his chin nearly hit the bar. “Here ya go, _convict_ , but you owe me.”

Jesse could feel the man’s gaze shift to him, appraising him. Likely wondering what in the world he was doing here- not like he was gonna tell his ex-boss shit. Although if prompted, he might get Genji in a little trouble and call the trickster out on his schemes.

“Surprised you’re not a sheriff.”

He bristled. “NDA, Gabe.”

The bartender shrugged. “You always went as a sheriff for Halloween. Spurs, hat, and chaps- the whole getup.”

“How many people have you fuckin’ told?” Jesse hissed, paying no attention to beer set down in front of him.

Gabe cocked an eyebrow at him, analyzing.

“Actually,” Genji piped up. “I figured it out myself.” Of course he did. _Of fucking course he did._ “You’ve got a really nice voice, Jesse. Very impressionable, not easily mimicked.” The young man smiled around the opening of his bottle. “I didn’t even know Gabe knew you until I got him to watch one of the videos- he was laughing before we were even five seconds in.”

Jesse grimaced- things on the list he didn’t need to imagine: Genji watching porn. Sure, he was well aware people watched, once upon a time had his life depending on that, but that didn’t mean he wanted to think about people he knew watching _his_ videos.

Gabe seemed to be of the same mind, throwing his cleaning towel at the other man, earning a yelp of surprise and a flailing of an arm that nearly smacked Jesse in the face. Quite comical if it wasn’t surrounded by a subject that Jesse had hoped to bury and keep buried. The more people who knew about what he used to do, the more chances there were for his kids to find out.

The bartender turned to him and sighed. “Sorry about him- and it wasn’t like I tried to tell anyone. Lord knows I left that business not long after either- Richard Reaper is a name I’d like to put behind me.”

Genji snorted, mumbled ‘ _Dick Reaper_ ’ under his breath and continued trying to break free of the towel that had wrapped itself around his face.

Gabe took the opportunity and grabbed Genji’s head, bringing it down to the bartop and holding it there, ignoring the squealing the the swats from the younger man. “Unfortunately, this little shit likes to make things difficult.” The man waited a beat before releasing Genji and pulling the towel off his face. “He wanted to make me laugh at his brother’s ‘awful’ porn collection.”

“It is awful!”

The towel smacked on his face again, attaching like an octopus with a vice grip. “I made nothing but quality films, you just have horrible taste.” Gabe tweaked a lock of green hair to drive his point home.

Once again, a comical scene, but Jesse was stuck on one single fact. His brother’s porn collection- Hanzo’s porn collection. Hanzo had seen Jesse’s films. Did he know Sheriff Ryder was Jesse? No shots showed his face and his body had changed considerably since those days. Sure, some distinct tattoos remained, but most of them had been changed as well, added to or covered up.

He could keep this secret.

Should he?

They’d just mended fences. Jesse had just gotten a second chance and would keeping this a secret be breaking Hanzo’s trust? It wasn’t as if he was using his videos to have contact with Hanzo- oh lord, did Hanzo still watch them?

“I’m gonna head home.” He said, sliding off the bar seat and heading out the door. He ignored Genji calling out, disregarded the mock salute of a wave from Gabe, and left. He had a lot to consider.

-

Thanksgiving.

Jesse didn’t celebrate the day for the holiday’s sake, but rather for the family he could bring together. Once upon a time it was just him, alone in an old, run down apartment while his mom was out working her tail off to support them- wondering where her money went when three jobs should have been enough to support a family of two.

He still felt awful about all the money he stole from her, but he tried to make it up by giving everything he earned to his kids.

Ever since he was nineteen, the holiday was spent with just him, Hana, and Lucio. There’d be a visit for an hour or two from close friends and other loved ones. One exciting year, early on, had a gun pulled when the kids’ foster parents came around demanding that they spend thanksgiving with their abusive asses, tried to lay on the guilt real thick. Jesse moved them to a gated apartment community the following month. The price of breaking the lease was well worth the safety the kids felt.

But no one stayed. Just the kids and him.

Except this year.

After three weeks of falling back into a dinner routine with Hanzo and his family, and after some not-so-subtle hints from his kids, Jesse invited them for a thanksgiving meal.

Of course, at the time he assumed that was only going to be Hanzo and Tracer and potentially Genji joining them. He found out two days before that would include Hanzo, Tracer, Tracer’s best friend Amelie, Genji, Gabe, Zenyatta, and his own family. Nine people.

Jesse was not nearly prepared to feed nine people.

The rush to grab extra food before it was all snatched up was mad and Jesse suffered from many bruises. What was it with little old ladies and bony elbows that they wielded like weapons?

It all came together, for better or for worse. There were tense stares between him and Gabe still, no hatred or hostility, but he wouldn’t forget being told to suck it up and make five more films when he was dog-tired and desperate to just be done. Contract be damned, keeping Jesse there had been viewed as an outright cruelty.

Informal, but filled with warmth, the thanksgiving dinner in the living room was perfect. Everyone crowded around the coffee table and onto the couches - sure, the dining table was more appropriate, but there weren’t near enough seats for everyone. There was something about the coziness that the setting brought upon that made everything perfect.

And then Genji broke out the booze. Hana lamented not being twenty-one, but Jesse just smiled and shook his head when Tracer snuck her sips of red wine.

He was her guardian, and as long as she was responsible and in his home, far be it from him to tell her no. Especially given his younger, more prolific days of underage drinking. That fake ID was probably still stored in a box somewhere. He cringed when he remembered the small patch of hair he used to be so proud of- who let him think that was a good idea?

Genji took shots with Zenyatta in the kitchen, occasionally bringing some out to Gabe and demanding he join them. It was clear, when Zenyatta started turning pink and declined to return to the kitchen with Genji, that the younger Shimada could hold his alcohol.

His brother however, was not as lucky.

A few light drinks in and Hanzo was flushed red and leaning heavily into Jesse’s side on the couch. His words slurred and his eyes drooped heavily.

Jesse made the decision to cut the man off, which only led to a few frustrated swats, limp hands smacking loosely against his shoulders. It was interesting to note that while intoxicated, Hanzo acted very similar to his brother.

It was a blessing when Tracer and her friend, and Genji and his companions left. The kids dragged themselves to their room leaving Hanzo and Jesse alone- the accountant sprawled halfheartedly on the couch and Jesse cleaning up the dishes from the dinner.

“McCreeeeee.” Hanzo crooned, his voice muffled by the distance and the rush of water from the sink.

“Wassup, Hanzo?” He called back.

Something muffled came from the other rom, but this time it wasn’t discernible.

“You’re gonna have to speak up, can’t hear you in here!”

Silence- the accountant had likely fallen asleep.

Jesse jumped when hands snaked around his waist from behind and something warm and solid pressed into his back. “Jesse~.” It was Hanzo.

“Yeah, Han?”

Hanzo’s grip on him tightened and he buried his face between Jesse’s shoulder blades. Man, he was certainly affectionate when drunk, wasn’t he. “I am cold.” He whined into Jesse’s back. “You are very warm.”

Content as he was, it was very hard to wash the dishes with a drunk man attached to him. Jesse waddled his way over to the coat rack, chuckling when Hanzo waddled with him, matching him step for step and leaning heavily into him. “Ya gotta let go of me.”

The man muttered something in Japanese, lost to Jesse’s ears, but he relented and let go of the radio host’s waist but didn’t give him space.

It was no matter, Jesse easily grabbed a coat and whipped around, throwing it over the man’s broad shoulders. In a spur of the moment decision, he grabbed the bottom of the coat, aligned the zipper and sealed the jacket closed around Hanzo, rolled him into a burrito and restricted his arms.

Hanzo appeared delighted, burrowing his face into the neckline and doing some sort of - the only descriptor for it was _adorable_ \- penguin walk to the dining table and plopping down in a chair. His posture only allowed for him to burrow into the coat further until it was just his eyes peeking above the collar, watching Jesse carefully.

Jesse continued with the dishes, and by the time he was done and turned to address the bundled man, he found him asleep, slouching in the chair. He looked so relaxed, so peaceful, swaddled and at ease in the coat. Jesse couldn’t bring himself to wake him.

He scooped up the accountant, with no small amount of effort, and made his way to his bedroom.

His bed was unmade, but that just made it easier for him to set Hanzo down and reach for the zipper.

A flash of golden-brown eyes made him pause. “Do ya want out of thi-”

“No.” Hanzo wiggled to snuggle more firmly into the coat. “Smells like you.”

“Well,” Jesse laughed, “It is mine. The others woulda been too small to fit ya.”

When the man’s eyes drifted shut again, Jesse set about grabbing some sweats and shirt to sleep in, nabbing a pillow from the other side of the bed and an extra blanket from underneath.

“Jesse~,”

He looked up, found Hanzo smiling at him- a sight that well and truly could have kill him. It was a little off, crooked and tight, but sweet nonetheless. “Yeah?”

Hanzo laughed, “I realize where I have seen you before.” He rolled over, mashing half of his face into Jesse’s pillow, ignoring how the color drained from the radio host’s face. “My life was very unsatisfying. It is okay though,” He sighed, nuzzling into his headrest. “Some things are better as secrets. Sheriff Ryder and Six Gun-” He snorts, wholly inelegant. “The law and the lawless.”

“Hanzo-”

“‘S okay, Jesse~.” Sleep began slurring his words just as much as the alcohol. “Different time, different life. I-” He cracked a yawn. “I understand.”

Jesse quickly scurried away to the door, hoping that sleep would make Hanzo forget about his embarrassing discovery. Only tomorrow would tell and the couch beckoned him to sleep. “Goodnight, Hanzo.”

“Night, Jesse~.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One again, this whole fic is a present for the lovely Akirata who blesses me with her friendship and time. <3<3
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	10. The Happening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -sweats-  
> lil warning: there's some dick talk in this chapter, but once again, nothing explicit
> 
> please tell me if there are any mistakes!  
> happy holidays!!!!!

Somewhere in the middle of the night, Hanzo managed to free himself from the prison of the zipped up jacket and spread wide in the comfy bed. Sleep and the tiniest vestiges of a hangover clinging to his mind, he couldn’t rightfully remember whose bed he was in.

All that he was certain about was that this sinfully comfortable mattress did not belong to him.

He sunk into it just right, not swallowed whole but not resting on sheets with no give. Hanzo felt a bit like Goldilocks who’d found the perfect bed- he was just waiting until the bears came in.

For now, however, he enjoyed the space underneath the airy covers. Relaxed, Hanzo stretched like a cat, toes curling, back arching, and his arms raising way above his head, burrowing beneath the pillows that carried a heavy aroma of spices- cinnamon and cloves predominantly.

His knuckles brushed against something solid, yet with give. His fingers, at the behest of his curious brain, wrapped around it and felt around its shape. Long, cylindrical and curved ever so slightly with a strange bulb at one end- that was no strange bulb.

Hanzo’s fingers tightened to a fist as he jerked up in the bed, finally taking stock of the room he was in. Flannel shirts were draped over every surface, two, possibly three, pairs of dark jeans were piled in a heap close to a laundry basket as if the owner was far too lazy to make it the extra step to toss them in properly.

The dresser was perhaps the most interesting fixture in the room, with glass sculptures lined across it, only this time Hanzo knew exactly what objects they were with no feeling needed. Dildos, in bright colors and various shapes- they were obviously well taken care of, although the dust gathering on them spoke of their disuse as of late.

Peering closer to the bed, Hanzo found the bedside table drawer cracked and from the dim light streaming in, he could just make out the shape of two more flesh toned toys, a string of round beads, and what looked to be an assortment of travel sized lube bottles in varying colors, to which his mind attributed the possibility of different flavors.

When he saw the bright purple head of a silicone toy peeking from beneath the other pillow, Hanzo lept out of the bed.

It was time to leave.

Quickly and quietly, he exited the room.

Pictures lined the hall, reminding him that he’d been at McCree’s for thanksgiving, that he’d drank more than he should have. Oh good heavens, that was McCree’s room. Jesse’s toys.

Rounding the corner that the hallway fed out of, he came face to freshly waking face of the exact man he didn’t want to see at the moment.

McCree took one look at him, eyes roving down and up before Hanzo felt his face explode into color.

Red as could be, his hands wrung tightly and the accountant couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth, filter hindered by embarrassment. “Why do you have so many!?” He blurted.

“I- Why-” The radio host sputtered, eyeing Hanzo from top to bottom again, face turning beet red.

“Who has that many!?!”

“I do?” His voice was small- the man quiet when embarrassed versus the loud and confused yelling Hanzo did when thoroughly flustered. “I do.”

Silence was strung taut between them- no amount of comfort coming from the lack of noise.

“Hanzo,” McCree finally broke the quiet.

The accountant would never openly acknowledge that the sound he made in response to his name at that moment in time was a muffled yelp, a squeak really, spurred on by the fact that he did not want to have this conversation with Jesse. Everything Hanzo had seen in his room told one story: sex.

The subject was touchy for him, dredging up bad memories of Koba and boring times wondering when it’d be done and he could get back to work. He hadn’t had a partner since then, but thankfully one didn’t need sex to find release.

If possible, his face burned hotter, his hands balling so tight that he could feel his fingernails dig into his palms- the memory of last night cleared, his drunken mouth pouring out secrets he’d found. McCree must have been so embarrassed while he went on about it, and here he was yelling at him about his choice in release- who was Hanzo to judge, honestly?

“Hanzo, please let go of Bessie, you’re about to-” The man flushed a shade of red that rivaled a tomato. “- damnit, that’s my good one.”

What.

Looking down, Hanzo found his hands wrapped painfully tight around the girth of a dildo - the one he’d first brushed underneath his pillow - twisting at its shaft violently, though the material was not so yielding as to bend. Had it been real, he was quite sure the owner would be in tears. Definitely yelling. Perhaps dying.

With a scream, he dropped the toy to the floor and brushed his hands on his shirt, as if there were diseases he would contract from holding it.

“I-” Hanzo’s eyes darted around, desperate to focus on anything besides the equally mortified man before him. “I gotta-”

He didn’t dare try to finish his sentence, striding out the door and going home. Away from his friend and his obscene amount of sex toys.

-

Of course, that only lasted for so long.

The kids had a soccer game, one he’d promised Tracer weeks ago he’d be at, and as luck would have it, it was also the one McCree had promised his own kids that he’d be at too. And they, the wonderful, considerate young adults, suggested a carpool.

A bit of a trip, with the game being away instead of a home game, and rather than shoving two of the young adults in the back with McCree, all three of them sat there. Leaving the passenger seat for the radio host.

Both of them, red in the cheeks, hardly said a word directly to each other until they pulled off for a stop so the kids could grab some waters. Part of Hanzo believed they forget their bottles on purpose, like they knew the two grown men would be avoidant of each other on this particular day.

It felt as though they were taking an eternity inside the gas station.

McCree let out a loud sigh, slumping in his seat slightly. “I’m real sorry about the other morning- shoulda cleaned it all up. Not used to anyone but me bein’ in my room.”

Hanzo shook his head quickly, “No, no,” and turned to face the other man. It wouldn’t stand to have him apologizing for having his space the way he wanted it. He’d been kind enough to not only let Hanzo’s drunken ass sleep in the bed, but he didn’t force any awkward sharing. A gentleman in all respects. “It is nothing to be sorry about. If anything, I should apologize for my reaction to it.” Yelling and holding a toy in a vice grip like a threat to McCree’s own parts was definitely not the appropriate response.

The host seemed to relax a bit. “Yeah, but still- probably not the best state to have my place in.”

“I did sort of chase you out of there with… well-” Hanzo cleared his throat, staring resolutely ahead and not at all in McCree’s direction. “Telling you I knew about your previous job. I do not have the best control when I have been drinking.”

McCree shifted away, leaning against the door of the car. “It was bound to come out eventually- Genji knew, and I know for a fact you’re damn smarter than he is.” He swirled his hand in the air, metal prosthetics shifting together - for a brief moment Hanzo wondered how he got it - clearing room for thought. “More perceptive. And I was a touch worried you’d think I was hidin’ it like I did the radio job. I like our friendship, Hanzo, don’t wanna do nothin’ to ruin it again.”

Finally, he took a glance at McCree. “It is not something that affects our friendship, Jesse. Had I more control, I would not have ever mentioned knowing. Everyone is entitled to secrets.”

“Just, don’t let my kids know, alright? They don’t know what all I did in the beginnin’.”

“Of course.” It made sense, a decent job in the porn industry would have helped a young twenty-something support two kids. And it wasn’t the kind of job you wanted those kids knowing about. Doing the best he could for his kids- respectable.

The rest of the drive to the game was less awkward.

-

McCree drove on the way back, at Hanzo’s request when he felt himself grow tired. The kids had hitched a ride with some teammates, a party being held in celebration of their win against their rivals.

“You owe me one hundred dollars, McCree.” Hanzo said triumphantly, leaning against the door.

“What?” The radio host feigned innocence. “I don’t remember nothin’ about that.”

“I am tired, not forgetful. Tracer scored more goals than both of your kids combined.”

The burst of deep laughter warmed Hanzo, put him at ease. “Alright, alright, One hundred bucks.”

Hanzo wasn’t sure when he fell asleep after that, but he woke up being carried, a feeling that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Warmth surrounded him, one arm under his arms and behind his back, and another under his knees. Spice surrounded him, comforting, safe.

He pressed closer to the smell, taking a deep inhale and sighing with its release.

The firm heat was traded for the cool softness of a bed unused. The perfect bed- Goldilocks returned to it once more. He snorted to himself, rolling on his side while covers were being pulled over him and tucked around him. If he was Goldilocks, and this was the perfect bed… that made Jesse a bear.

“What’s so funny, Hanzo?”

Freezing, the accountant glanced over at McCree, finding him with blankets and a pillow in his arms at the door. “Nothing.” He snorted softer, remembering bear. He was so tired. “It is nothing. Goodnight, Jesse.”

The man smiled back, giving him a mock salute. “Nighto, Hanzo.”

How absolutely ridiculous.

-

It was a pleasant surprise when Hanzo woke up, that there was no hidden dildo beneath his pillow. He took his time, enjoying the comfort which he’d been so rudely distracted from last time. He would have to ask McCree where he got his bed from- it was divine and part of Hanzo feared he’d never have a good night’s sleep in his own bed again. This mattress had ruined him.

He would have slept in that bed all day - or at least as long as McCree didn’t need to get into his room - but he had work to do at home today and he couldn’t waste away the hours here.

Leaving the warmth of the bed was like saying goodbye to a lover, agonizing and left him with a certain kind of longing that made him instantly begin thinking of ways to end up there again. The easiest one, but one that had the most risk, was getting drunk.

The doors to Hana and Lucio’s rooms were open, the kids not returned from their party, likely staying the night at a friends, and the house was quiet. Perhaps he could escape to his house without being accosted and delayed by McCree if the man was still asleep.

But fate was never kind to him for too long.

McCree was asleep alright, spread out on the couch. With his arms thrown above his head, one leg falling off the couch and the other hooked over the back, it left the accountant with the perfect - or most horrific if you asked him in the moment - view. Standing tall and proud through the slit in his boxers, like it accomplished something, McCree’s morning wood saluted the room. Morning wood- hell, more like Morning Tree.

If Hanzo thought the thing was obscene, tucked into sweats, seeing it in the flesh was terrifying. How did he walk normally? How did he not pass out at the slightest turn on- maybe that’s why he was asleep still, passed out from all the blood rushing south.

He must have made a sound, a scream, a squeak, or something because the man jolted awake. The sharp movement made his dick bob back and forth like a wave ‘ _hello_ ’ but there was no way in hell that Hanzo would wave back.

A deer caught in headlights, Hanzo froze as McCree took stock of himself and his situation and then looked at the accountant.

Two pairs of wide eyes stared at each other in terror and shock. The radio host’s mouth opened and closed, trying to produce words and failing. With a start, he grabbed a pillow and at least had the decency and motor skills to cover himself.

“I- uh…” McCree chuckled, face blossoming pink. “G’mornin’.”

Hanzo cleared his throat, dragged his eyes away from McCree and let the man adjust himself. “Good morning.”

McCree got up, finding his jeans from the day before and tugging them on. It hid most of his predicament, but it was still very clear that his morning wood was not to be quelled. “Want some breakfast? The kids texted last night, stayed at your place.”

“No,” Something in the accountant’s gut twisted when McCree looked over at him like a kicked dog, likely believing him to be running, their friendship injured from the event. Hanzo smiled to prove him otherwise. “I have a lot of work to be done by tonight.”

Nodding in understanding, McCree began fixing up where he’d slept while Hanzo went for the door.

Before he shut it, he gave one more smile, assuring the radio host that he wasn’t leaving because of simple morning wood - it wasn’t so simple, but Hanzo wouldn’t dwell on that. “I will see you for dinner tonight, Jesse.”

-

A shower and minimal breakfast later, Hanzo sat himself at his desk. Work occupied him enough, his fingers flying across the keys, numbers righting themselves at his command. The control felt nice, needed after the wild adventure he had earlier.

The distraction only lasted so long, the kids poured into the kitchen from upstairs, talking loudly and happily. Had he been the man he was ten years ago, he might have snapped at them for silence, but now he heard their happiness and took his break while they enjoyed themselves.

“-so what are you getting your dad for the holidays?” Tracer’s chipper voice rang.

Hanzo tuned in, acutely aware of each word. He wanted to know if they would speak of his own potential gift so that he could either pointedly not listen or interrupt them. Despite his dislike of surprises in general, he most hated ruined ones. And he would hate to be grumpy about it and spoil Tracer’s holiday cheer with his foul mood toward it all.

“We wanted to get him a motorcyle,” Hana spoke. “He used to have one when we were really little.”

“Been working our asses off, but man with college and everything, couldn’t make enough for it.” Lucio continued.

The accountant pursed his lips- Jesse mentioned once that he paid for everything for their educations. He wanted the kids to save everything so they could have an easy start to life- it was why he moved farther from his work and closer to their school, they wouldn’t need residence halls or long commutes and could have good meals every night without missing out on big parts of campus life.

But they had been spending it? Perhaps on books, or gas? Regardless of the line on the bill, their money was being spent on themselves in an unselfish way, hindering their goodwill toward their caretaker.

A tragedy of monetary matters.

Hanzo’s quick fingers pulled up his own accounts and smiled at the numbers- it was the least he could do for them.

Plucking his checkbook out of his briefcase, he made his presence known with heavy footsteps on the way to the kitchen. Three pairs of eyes stared at him as he entered and pulled a pen off of a counter.

“How much would this motorcycle cost?” He asked bluntly.

“How much did you hear!?” Tracer cried out, huffing.

Hanzo shook his head and flipped to the next blank check in his book. “Nothing about mine- but please, tell me how much you two need for Jesse’s gift?”

The two young adults looked at each other, the silent language of siblings passing between them.

“Five thousand.”

Hanzo squinted at his checkbook. They were lowballing it, extremely, even he knew that. “Which would make what total?”

“Seven.”

The accountant hummed and wrote fluidly on the check. “Okay, nine thousand.”

The two young adults coughed and sputtered. “Mr. Shimada, no, we-”

“Right, ten.”

They tried their hardest to deny him, begged him not to write the check but he feigned not hearing any of it. Despite the amount for eleven thousand already being written down, he continued to ramp up the number each time they protested.

He watched them eye the check warily when he set it on the table before them, apprehensive about taking such an extreme amount of money.

Good kids, good morals instilled in them from their caretaker. All the more reason that Jesse deserved good things, all of them did. “Buy him a nice one, and the rest- consider it my gift for you.”

“Mr. Shimada,” Lucio held the check back out to him, standing. “We can’t accept this. Pops’ll get awfully sore if he finds out-”

“Then he should not find out.” Hanzo interrupted with a smirk curling at his lips. “Please, your family has been nothing but good to mine and I have little that I ever wish to spend my money on.” When he left the crime world, he’d been sure to take every stolen penny with him. He didn’t truly need to work, but being an accountant certainly gave plausible reason as to why he never worried about his money.

Thin arms were thrown around his shoulders, lips pressed to his cheek in affection. “Thank you, Mr. Shimada.” Hana spoke, beaming brightly as she released him.

Hanzo ruffled her hair in response, delighted at the shriek Hana gave. “Think nothing of it.”

Jesse deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time I revealed the true pairing of this fic. Hanzo/Jesse's Mattress. I'm sorry I deceived you all but that's Aki's otp and this fic is for them, as always.
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	11. Sleepless Nights

Christmas Eve was always Jesse’s favorite holiday, regardless of the following morning. With no standing traditions to speak of, his makeshift family had forged their own.

The Great Cookie Race was always the highlight of the night, each of them stacking large plates with more sugar cookies than was necessary. Up until this year, there had never been a winner of the race, the event usually devolving into Lucio and Hana pinning him down and smearing icing all in his beard - the demons - but this time it was different.

This year, Hanzo joined them.

Jesse hadn’t thought to ask him, assumed the accountant had his own plans with Genji or Tracer in his own household, but the kids insisted. When Jesse remained passive, unwilling to go bother the man on a holiday and risk being put back on sour terms with him, Hana had sprinted across the street. She came back with a hastily put together Hanzo who laughed, genuine and warm, at his inclusion in their festivities.

He didn’t want to intrude, offered to go back home - empty, Genji and Tracer both out for the night and following day - but once he was in the house, Jesse refused to let him leave.

Hanzo adapted quite well to the traditions, making snide comments to the kids that had them laughing and snorting milk through their noses during the chugging competition. And when The Great Cookie Race came around, somehow Hanzo created nearly three times as many cookies as the rest of them.

He’d even made it a scene, each of his meticulously decorated cookies resembling a person they knew. They were shaped like superheros, to which the accountant flushed a bright red when admitting he enjoyed comic books and Jesse saw stars in his eyes.

It was a shame they were cookies and couldn’t last forever, Jesse wanted to keep the small cowboy vigilante cookie forever. He wanted it and it’s little resemblance of a six-shooter gun to be immortalized. He was miffed that he did radio and never showed his face or let the public know who he was because he wanted to parade the caricature around.

He took a picture of Six Gun for himself anyways, and if he also happened to take a picture of the bow wielding Drifter as well, then that was neither here nor there.

When the night wound down to an end, he plopped down on the couch next to Hanzo and offered him a mug of spiked eggnog. In silence they drank, warm company filling any space left empty by sound.

The accountant helped Jesse put out the kids’ presents, pulled some of his own out of a bag - “Yer spoilin’ my kids.” Jesse said, and Hanzo merely grinned like the devil before adding a few more.

As he went to go to bed, Hanzo hesitated, wrung his fingers together nervously before bidding him goodnight.

Jesse dreamt of the accountant that night, waking up warmed by another body in the cold morning of Christmas, but when the sun rose the following day, he was alone on the couch.

Hana and Lucio came bounding in shortly after he woke up, fighting over who got to make what for breakfast. As they tried to settle it with a best-out-of-fifteen game of rock, paper, scissors, Hanzo made his appearance.

Rumpled as he was, it was easy to tell the kids had woken him up in their excitement and the way he rubbed at his eyes made Jesse want to grab him and tuck him back into the bed. Maybe join him.

“Ya want some coffee, Hanzo?” He asked, breaking himself from his wistful thoughts. He had a good thing with the man, it wouldn’t do to ruin it by trying to make it something more.

“Yes, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Jesse nodded and joined his kids in the kitchen. The coffee took longer than expected, for some reason the damn machine had not only been unplugged, but hidden under the sink as well. When he joined Hanzo on the couch, much like the night before, the accountant was decidedly more awake, and it might have been Jesse’s imagination, but he had this lingering chill on him.

He warmed up quickly enough, leaning against Jesse as the kids opened their gifts.

Not once did they thank Hanzo for anything, not even the gifts he’d put out, and Jesse felt embarrassed that they’d be so rude to the man who’d essentially been part-time living with them. He made a note to talk to them later about it, when out of company’s presence, but he caught a glimpse of a tag from one of Hanzo’s gifts.

_To: Hana Banana_

A nickname Jesse only called Hana on his phone and on other gifts that were quickly being unwrapped.

Hanzo wasn’t taking credit for any of it.

He gave the accountant an incredulous look, and the man raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his coffee with a side glance back.

“Pops, we got a present for you.” Lucio said, just before tossing his jacket over Jesse’s head.

The radio host floundered, trying to free himself and scowling at the amused smile Hanzo hid behind his mug. “You kids didn’t need to do that- save your money, I’m fine.”

Hana shook her head, tugging on his arm to get him to stand. “It isn’t about being fine, Dad. We wanted to do something nice for you, after everything you’ve done for us.”

His heart broke even as it soared. His kids were under no illusion that they’d been in a good situation before him, or that things were easy for their family, but they loved him and that’s all he ever wanted from them.

Once his coat was on and zipped, hands slid over his eyes. “No peeking.” Hanzo spoke as the kids grabbed a hand each and led Jesse outside.

The chill of Christmas morning bit sharply, the sun not yet high enough to warm much of anything, and Hanzo pressed slightly closer to his back.

He could hear the kids chatting low to each other, but couldn’t listen enough to pick up their words, his mind more focused on the contact between him and Hanzo. He couldn’t begin to fathom when the man became something he honed in on, acutely aware of his actions and words and basking in every second of it.

Jesse didn’t get the time to dwell as the hands slid away from his face and the kids released their grip on him. His eyes took a second to adjust to brightness outside before settling on a motorcycle parked right next to Bastion.

The kids framed the bike, arms spread wide and a loud ‘tadah!’. He was hesitant to get closer - surely such a fine thing, an _expensive_ thing, couldn’t be for him - but Hanzo gave him a nudge in the back.

He stumbled forward, his hands meeting the sleek, black exterior. He traced the gold lines down the side, pausing as he mouthed the words printed there. ‘ _High Noon_ ’, a top end model.

Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, spilling over his red cheeks. The kids were quick to swarm him, hug him close enough that when his knees went out from under him, they were able to ease him to the ground. “I don’t- yer money. Ya shouldn’t waste it on me. Not like this.”

They remained there for long moments until Jesse calmed, and even when he was able to stand on his own, Hana refused to remove herself from his side.

The radio host reached out and played with the end of the big red bow resting on the seat, he couldn’t begin to believe that something like this was for him. When he’d thought about buying a bike on his own, he’d been thinking low end, used, cheap. But this was new, the scent of pristine leather strong around it.

He wanted to return it, give the money back to the kids.

But they looked so happy, so thrilled to have given it to him. So he couldn’t return it, couldn’t bear the thought of their crestfallen faces anymore than he could take the knowledge that they’d spent their hard earned money on him.

“I think I’ve still got my ol’ riding gear somewhere.” He mused aloud.

Lucio gave him a squinted look. “You mean the ratty leather getup you wore years ago?”

“Hey! It ain’t ratty.”

The young man rolled this eyes, laughing through the motion. “Whatever you say, Pops. C’mon Hana, Amari’s playin’ her christmas charity game in a bit!” He announced, bounding back into the house. Nothing could deter the two from watching the yearly event, eating leftover cookies and whooping and hollering as the soccer star scored goals and donated large sums for each one.

Hanzo smiled after them, standing beside Jesse, for warmth of course. It was cold and he ran hot. “They love you, you know.”

Jesse nodded dumbly, leaning into the accountant’s body and it was just his imagination that told him Hanzo leaned back. “No idea why,”

The other man snorted, reaching up and fondly pinching at his cheek. “Then you are blind, Jesse McCree. Only a fool would not love you.” He gave no room for retort or complaint, following the kids inside and leaving Jesse alone.

He might as well go see if he could pull out the stops and fit in his old gear, for old time’s sake.

-

Needless to say, he did find the ‘ratty leather getup’ but Jesse also found that he’d gained quite a bit of weight since the last time he’d ridden a motorcycle. The pants were snug on his body, and it had taken a great amount of care and effort for him to be able to pack everything away and do up the zipper.

He attempted to slip on the white shirt, but the thin material caught on his prosthetic and ripped, so he was left shirtless and frowning at the sleeveless leather vest. Its anti-establishment patches scowled angrily at him from a life he’d left behind, reminding him that the last time he’d been on a bike, he’d been running from the law with a smoking gun in hand.

There was a knock on the door and Jesse grunted in response.

“Hana wanted me to make sure you had not killed… your… self.”

The radio host chanced a look over his shoulder and found Hanzo standing in the doorway, face impossibly red as though he’d found where Jesse had stashed all of his toys. It made him self-conscious, suddenly aware of how underdressed he was and how much his pants just didn’t fit him anymore. He reached up and scratched the back of his neck with a forced chuckle. “Nah, nah, just havin’ a bit of trouble.”

Hanzo cleared his throat, striding into the room further and snatching the worn stetson from the bed.

The hat was once his pride and joy, still was if he thought back on fonder memories of chasing Hana and Lucio through their cramped apartment as they played keep away.

“The look suits you,” The accountant spoke, placing the hat onto Jesse’s head.

Up close, Jesse could see the way his blush traveled down Hanzo’s neck and disappeared beneath his shirt.

“Not too long ago, I’d be caught dead wearin’ anything else.” He reached up, adjusting the stetson and tilting it back so he could watch Hanzo better. There was something enjoyable about recognizing small cues and unspoken words that flittered across the man’s face, such simple things Jesse would have missed if they’d never forged their strange friendship.

Hanzo picked up the vest next, his thumb running across a patch that was old and faded- but Jesse knew it was from Deadlock, the wings on the edges unmistakeable. “I should like to see it complete,” The man paused, worked silent words in his mouth before continuing. “If only to embarrass you to your grandkids in the future.”

Jesse’s mouth ran dry, his chest seeming to reach out and snag onto that one thing- future. “Yeah,” He finally croaked, at a loss for words but unwilling to let silence linger. “Can-” His voice cracked, drawing a soft snort from his companion. “Can’t shame the shameless.”

The look on the accountant’s face was worth it, the lowered lids of an accepted challenge sending lightning right through Jesse’s body. “Oh, but I can try.”

-

The door slammed open in the dead of night, the darkness making it hard for the two men not to knock their shoulders into the doorjamb as they stumbled their way inside.

It was a scant two hours into the new year and already Hanzo was smashed and Jesse was tipsy. Bless their cab driver for being such a good sport when Jesse spilled his water all over the back of the car- really it was Gabe’s fault for not putting the plastic lid on the to-go cup on correctly.

Hanzo was snuggled up to his side, refusing to budge no matter how difficult it made things, with his arms wrapped around Jesse’s middle. Jesse refused to acknowledge the way his hands kneaded at the fat around his hips, or how warm it made everything suddenly feel.

“C’mon Hanners, let’s get you to bed.”

The accountant laughed, tightened his hold around Jesse. “Oh, Mr. McCree, how forward. You have not even bought me dinner yet.”

He huffed, dragging the man down the hall toward his bedroom. “I’ve made ya plenty of dinners,” Once inside the doorway he untangles Hanzo from around him and scoots him forward. The pat on the accountant’s ass is purely accidental, his tipsy hands feeling far heavier than they actually are.

Still, Hanzo jumped and laughed more. He turned around as he flopped onto the bed, stretching his entire body out- all the while staring intently at Jesse. “Will you join me?”

“Nah, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Not even if I want you to?” He writhed on the bed until he could twist onto his stomach, ungraceful but somehow still alluring. Rising to his knees, he beckoned the radio host with a crooked finger.

Helpless, Jesse followed his silent command. “Hanzo,”

“Jesse,” He purred, throwing his arms over Jesse’s shoulders and leaning into him.

So close, too close, but yet not close enough. He couldn’t help the way his hands settled on the accountant’s hips, as if they were made to slot together. “Hanzo, I don’t-”

He pursed his lips, cheeks puffing out as he worked out the words to say. “It is your bed, please do not let me keep you from it. I understand if you do not want me here, my house is just across the street, but do not stay away because you think I do not want you here.” He pursed his lips, cheeks puffing out as he worked out the words to say. “I am cold.” He leaned further in, burying his face into Jesse’s neck. “You are very warm.”

Flushed red, Jesse could do nothing but hold on. The man was drunk, he didn’t mean any of it in the way the radio host had begun to hope for. He had nightmares, Jesse knew this, and they seemed lessened when he slept here. He didn’t want Jesse’s bed for Jesse, he wanted it for a good night’s rest for once in his life.

There was nothing that suggested, outside of drunk pawings, that Hanzo wanted more from him than friendship.

But it wouldn’t hurt just this once.

“Alright, alright,” He acquiesced. “Let me change outta this shit first. Jeans ain’t that comfortable to sleep in.”

Hanzo made a noise of delight and released him, falling back to sit on the bed.

Jesse was aware of his intent stare as he turned away to change quickly out of his jeans and into sweats. He could feel those eyes on him as he shucked his shirt.

“Do you have a shirt I could borrow?”

He turned around to a sight that left him breathless. It didn’t matter how dark it was, there was enough light from the moon and his eyes had adjusted enough that he could appreciate everything he was staring at. He’d never seen Hanzo shirtless before and he was upset that he couldn’t see everything clearer.

Oh, how he wanted to touch him, run his hands over that tattoo, feel everything. Whatever workout routine the man used, there was power hidden beneath his skin, each time he moved, every muscle shifted.

“Jesse?”

Snapping out it, he nodded, pulled open a dresser drawer and got a flannel shirt out. He tossed it over his shoulder, unwilling to look at Hanzo again lest he be entirely lost.

“Are you going to join me? Or am I sleeping alone?” He asked.

Jesse couldn’t deny him by this point, even though he was the less drunk of the two. He shut his eyes, crawling into his bed by feeling alone and laid on his back. He heard a sound of frustration and suddenly hands were pushing and pulling at him until he was on his side.

“Better.” Hanzo spoke, worming his way into Jesse’s arms, taking the position of the little spoon.

Sleep would not come to Jesse, not with how right it felt to be holding his friend, curled around him. Tentatively, he wrapped his arm further around Hanzo, pulling him closer.

Hanzo wiggled into him with the movement, accepting of the pull and taking Jesse’s hand to lace their fingers together. “Jesse,”

“Yeah?”

“You do not hate me, right?”

Jesse sighed, ducked his head to burrow into the back of Hanzo’s neck. He smelled nice, like sharp herbs of a garden. “Why would I hate you?”

“I was not kind to you, and though I may have apologized, it happened.”

It felt right, like he had to do this or everything they had would fall apart. He untangled their fingers, making a soft ‘shush’ when Hanzo went tense at their separation. He manhandled the accountant, rolling him over until they faced each other, the closeness welcome this time.

Hanzo’s eyes were heavy with fatigue and alcohol, his lips upturned as he tried to figure out what Jesse was doing. In short, adorable and a look likely to haunt Jesse until the end of his days.

“We all got demons, Hanners,” He cupped the accountant’s face, brushing it back into his hair. It seemed to soothe him some, dark eyes falling shut under his touch. “They make us do nasty things sometimes; takes a strong fella to fight them, a stronger one still to right the wrongs they made us do.” He pulled Hanzo closer, tangled their legs together and wrapped his arms around him. Jesse’s heart soared when the other man returned the gesture and burrowed into him. “I got ‘em myself, so I’m not about to hold yours against you.”

The room was silent for long minutes, and Jesse was sure Hanzo had fallen asleep this time, but far be it from the accountant to leave things unsaid. “Thank you, Jesse.”

“Get some rest, darlin’.”

-

When Jesse woke up the following morning, it was with a cottony feeling in his mouth and a memory of Hanzo waking him up before heading home to work. He can’t help but feel like he’s forgetting something.

He took his sweet time climbing out of bed and getting dressed, praying Hanzo left enough coffee in the pot for him to have at least one cup while he brews another pot.

He’d never been that lucky when it came to morning coffee, but in Hanzo’s defense, it wasn’t him who drained the pot.

She was perched in his kitchen like she belonged there, reading a newspaper from days prior, and drinking the last cup of coffee.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” He surprised her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders for a giant bear hug. “Fareeha Amari, as I live and breathe!”

The woman screeched, gripping her mug tightly in her hands. “The coffee!” She elbowed him, fighting back. “Goddamn you, Jesse.” She finally managed to get out of his grip, set the coffee down and turn to him. “Not a moment of peace, I swear.”

She returned his hug just as eagerly, laughing when he squeezed tight and twirled her around.

“What brings you ‘round these parts?”

A finger is jabbed at his shoulder suddenly. “Someone keeps moving and forgetting to tell me. How am I supposed to send my godkids presents if they keep getting returned to me?”

He grinned, stealing her mug and taking a drink- the pure amount of sugar in it makes his teeth curl. “Had to make ya visit somehow.”

Fareeha rolled her eyes, taking back her drink. “Sure, that was the plan. Not like you to forget that sort of thing.” She settled back into her seat, folding up the newspaper. “How have you been?”

Jesse shrugged, pulling out more grounds for the new pot of brew. He was positively aching for it after the long night. “Same old, same old. Workin’, sleepin’, more workin’.”

She made a hum of understanding, but her smile said something entirely different. It was a look he learned to fear from her when he was younger, an ace up her sleeve. “‘More Working’. Is that any way to address that pretty man I caught in here this morning?”

He sputtered. “What? You- god, you saw him?”

“Well, he saw me first. He was very defensive, that one. Was he supposed to be a secret?” Her eyes went wide, a gasp falling from her lips. “Jesse! Is he a married man!?”

“No, no. Hell no. It’s just…. It’s complicated.”

She scoffed. “Coming from you, that makes me think you’re making it more complicated than it needs to be.” She watched him take her drink again, waited for the prime opportunity. “I asked him if he slept with you, he turned bright red- yeah! Like that!”

Swallowing the coffee was more difficult when he wanted to yell at the same time, the liquid getting caught in his throat and making him choke, a flush blooming across his face. “Fareeha!”

“He said ‘yes’, you know? But he assured me it was just sleeping.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you leading him on?”

“What? No, god, Fareeha please. Can we talk about somethin’ else?” It was too early for this.

“Can I at least know his name? He was so flustered about something that he neglected to let me know.”

“Gee, ask a man if he’s sleeping with someone and who knows why he’s flustered? It could be anything!” He remarked, sarcasm dripping heavily. He loved her, man did he love Fareeha, but sometimes he wanted her far, far away. This was one of those times. “His name’s Hanzo.”

“He’s very cute.”

“You’re married.” A beat. “And gay.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can at least appreciate a beautiful man when I see one, thank you very much. Have you kissed him?”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face and wishing his coffee would hurry up and finish brewing, he needed a good cup right about now.

“You haven’t! Jesse! ‘Come on, man, nut up.’ Isn’t that what you told me?”

Jesse rubbed at his temples, wishing for all the world the kids would come home. Their shrieking and dying about Amari being in their household would last long enough for this whole conversation to be forgotten. “Yeah, yeah, but look, there’s somethin’ eatin’ away at him. It’s complicated and I don’t wanna lose him by pushin’ too much. I don’t even know if he’d want more- you should have seen him drop a dildo like a hot potato…” His words died in his mouth.

He didn’t even have to see the gleam in Fareeha’s eyes to know he’d said too much.

“Oh. Oh this I have to hear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this makes your day better, babe! Bless you for being in my life, Aki <3
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	12. Under Cover

_His lover laughed and his phone rang. “You should answer that. I’m sure you’re the only one who can identify your brother’s body.”_

_His stomach churned, his throat aching. “What did you do!?!” He repeated, screaming. He clutched his phone hard, the technology creaking under his grip. His lover, this man who’d betrayed him, used him, remained silent. “Answer me!”_

_Koba sneered at him, like he was nothing more than dirt._

_His heart twisted, warring with the warmth it once found in that face. It was such a drastic, violent change from the man he knew. Despite the thievery from his father, despite Koba’s father having killed his own, he’d adored the man. He’d found home and a warm welcome in his arms, a sense of belonging in his touch. But this was cruelty, plain and simple- forcing him to know his place._

_As a thing._

_“How long have you known?” He hated how meek his voice sounded, unsure and weak._

_“A few weeks,” Koba answered, pulling out his own phone and typing out a text. “Had to find the right time to get your brother alone. Quite the social butterfly.” He spoke as though it were casual conversation. “Should head to the hospital- the doctors are having trouble keeping him stable.”_

_He should have felt sick. He should have been completely destroyed at having laid with Koba while his brother was attacked._

_Instead, it was rage- anger, pure and simple, at the nonchalant, uncaring snake before him._

_The son of a crimelord, self defense was part of his upbringing, a way of life - one could never be too safe with his last name._

_Granted, in all his teachings it was always about defending himself from attackers. Surely this man, this awful serpent who grinned at him while telling him his brother was dying, was a threat to his livelihood - to his life._

_Tackling Koba to the ground was only self defense._

_Taking the lamp to his head was only self defense._

_Koba’s blood on the floor, on his own body, was only self defense._

_His tears, hidden by the spray of the cold shower, were only self defense._

-

Mismatched hands cupping his face woke Hanzo from his memory, his body tensed and his head reeled trying to recall where he was and who he was with.

“Hanzo,” Came a southern drawl, “I’ve got ya, please,” Concerned brown eyes met his, promised the accountant safety. “Please stop cryin’.” Jesse.

His voice twisted something in Hanzo, so wounded and worried about him. The radio host was hurting for him as the horrible nightmares lingered, reminded him of the mistakes he made. The last man he’d been in a bed with had seen his brother harmed, nearly killed.

But Jesse, his entire being was bare before him as they remained tangled together in his bed. So trusting, open, only bringing goodness and happiness into Hanzo’s life. Even when he’d hidden who he was, he’d only good intentions - and still Hanzo had gotten angry, avoidant, as though he were really any better.

Hanzo didn’t realize he was still crying, wasn’t entirely aware of when he’d started with silent tears slipping from the corners of his eyes, until Jesse tucked in around him, nosed at his cheek and let out a whispered, “Please, honey.” In pain.

They were so close, just a slight turn of his head and they would kiss. It wasn’t as unappealing of a thought as it once was, but he couldn’t handle the doors it would open. He’d seen the toys, remembered the videos, and he wouldn’t be able to provide what Jesse would want. Not yet.

So he didn’t kiss Jesse, didn’t tempt himself with the idea any further and turned his face away from the radio host.

He did, however, grab his prosthetic hand, lace their fingers together and hold tight while he centered himself, stopped the overwhelming feelings of fear and adoration from writhing in his chest.

Hanzo slowly became aware of Jesse humming softly, a tune that to anyone else would be nonsense muffled into the accountant’s skin, but to Hanzo it was everything.

In the moments after his nightmare, a wishing of sweet dreams meant the world to him. A song so intimate between them eased Hanzo until he lay pliant in Jesse’s embrace. Dreams of Jesse would always be far more welcome than horrors of his past.

“Jesse,” Metal digits flexed around his hand in response.

Suddenly, the man pulled away, put space between them that Hanzo desperately wanted to disappear. He wanted the man’s warmth around him again, holding him sweetly. “Sorry,” Jesse started, pulling his hand away from Hanzo’s. “You were- god you were havin’ some awful night terrors. You were screamin’ and kickin’ and I didn’t know how else to stop ya from hurting yourself.”

Concern for only Hanzo.

The accountant was no fool, he knew with his training and his nightmares, he’d likely bruised Jesse, but the man was only worried about Hanzo hurting himself, about soothing him.

“They were not terrors,” The words bubbled forth, “They were memories. My ex lover was not a kind man.” He couldn’t stop speaking even if he wanted to, he wanted to let Jesse know the truth about the man he invited to his bed. “I have not always been Hanzo Shimada,” He shook faintly, no one outside of Genji knew who he used to be, knew where they came from. “My name-”

He was silenced by lips, chapped and warm, and before he could wrap his head around being kissed, Jesse was pulling away.

Two sets of wide eyes stared at each other, equal parts disbelief and wonder. Hanzo wanted him to do it again, but his fears kept him from demanding it. Those ugly voices that told him his brother would die prevented him from even reaching out to soothe away the embarrassed grimace that worked it’s way across the radio host’s face.

“Sorry,”

Hanzo wished he would stop apologizing, stop feeling bad for acting on things the accountant wanted to do himself.

“I-” Jesse bit his lip. Cute, in it’s own way, but also worrying. The man danced on eggshells around Hanzo, likely in response to how he’d been treated when everything was just beginning for them. Guilt often nestled deep within Hanzo when he recalled how horrible he’d been. Calling him things like ‘beast’ and ‘brute’ and ‘filthy’, unwilling to accept that someone kind could be genuine.

Jaded, and he hated Koba all the more for it.

“I don’t care who ya used to be.” The man floundered, searched for words that floated in the space around Hanzo’s head with darting eyes. “That is, I mean, not that I don’t care, but that it don’t matter none to me. Ya told me once, ‘different time, different life’ and that ought to apply to you too. You coulda been a sunday school teacher named Jim, but the man I know is an accountant named Hanzo. That’s the guy I care about.” He shrunk in on himself. “If’n that makes any sense.”

He couldn’t stand it, to see Jesse so delicate when he was scared he’d offended Hanzo, worried that he’d break whatever brewed between them.

Hanzo stretched out his arms in a silent invitation, one that Jesse took easily, as though this was the way things had been for years. His warmth was comforting as he shimmied to lay down, resting his head on Hanzo’s chest and his beard tickled his skin, drawing a soft chuckle.

Once settled, the accountant wrapped his arms around Jesse loosely, fingers threading through thick brown hair. What a fool he’d been to think it’d been dirty. What a cruel man he’d been to have not even allowed Jesse to be a good neighbor.

“It makes perfect sense.”

The radio host let out a whoosh of air, held breath escaping. “Good… good.” He settled heavily onto Hanzo, “Don’t wanna make you regret giving me a second chance.”

His fingers tightened in the man’s hair, drawing a grunt and adding yet another slight against Jesse, but it had the desired effect, maybe more. His companion looked up at him, eyes gazing far away yet straight at him all the same and Hanzo’s hand loosened, petting gently where he had pulled. “I would never regret it. I was a child toward you, Jesse, and I never want to be that way with you again.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” Jesse hooked a hand up over Hanzo’s arm, further entangling the two of them together. “I ain’t ever worried ‘bout how you treat me, it’s all in the past. Just don’t wanna stir up whatever’s eatin’ at ya. Sometimes folks ain’t too friendly when you rustle up their demons, no matter how much they love ya.” He laid his head back down, smiled into Hanzo’s skin. “Just wanna be good to ya.”

“You are.” Oh, how Hanzo wanted to draw him up, kiss him and show him just how good, instead of using only words. “You are very good to me.” But instead, his hands continued sifting through Jesse’s hair, slowly trailing off into idleness as they fell back asleep. He would have to hope his words sufficed for now.

-

“You look terrible.”

Hanzo glanced up from his desk on one of the rare days he was forced to come in for work. His coworker stood in the entrance of his cubicle, steaming mugs in each hand. “Good morning to you too, Satya.”

The woman’s smile was pleasant, not quite as warming as the ones he received from Jesse as the man saw him off to work, but it was nice all the same. “Coffee. Extra sugar and cream.”

She set a mug down on his desk, the impact softened by her pinky so not a drop was spilled. Satya was always crisp and clean with everything she did, one of many traits Hanzo found endearing about her. “Thank you,”

She hovered, brows barely drawing together as she watched him reach for the coffee and take a long drink. “Not sleeping well again, I take it?”

“Not last night, no.”

Satya hummed and disappeared.

The stack of files on his desk called to him once again- taunting him with their archaic format. Who in their right mind refused to use digital spreadsheets, they were far easier to enact computations on. Hanzo took another heavy sip of coffee to combat the weariness he felt from the task already, he knew his fingers would ache by the time he finished transferring all the data.

A small tin was placed on his desk, it’s swirling designs of gold begging to be touched and traced with the tips of his fingers, but a hand with bright blue painted fingernails prevented him from acting on such an impulse. “You are quite lucky I had a spare tin here- it worked well for you before, yes?”

“It did,” He admitted, remembering easily when he’d started working at Zhou Technologies; he’d been hard pressed to sleep more than three hours and the exhaustion was slowly killing him. Satya had quickly come along and provided him with tea which, while not his preferred drink of choice, helped ease him to sleep and stay asleep for a proper length of time. “But I do not require it anymore.”

Jesse was enough. Despite rough nights like the one before, he was still quick to fall back into a slumber while surrounded in warmth. Before, he would have been awake until he slogged his way home from work, but now he would manage with a light nap before Jesse and he made dinner.

It was unnerving, the dependence on the radio host’s presence, especially when he’d done so much to make his brother and himself free. But it was also a comfort, a luxury he didn’t want to give up. He hadn’t experienced anything quite as exquisite as Jesse’s brand of affection, not in all his years.

Satya watched him, nothing missed by her gaze. “You are seeing someone.” She stated, a grin stretching across her face. “You will have to tell me during lunch, I want to know everything.”

He turned his nose up at her. “You are an incorrigible gossip.”

She flicked her long, braided hair over her shoulder as she turned away, glancing at him over her shoulder with a telltale smirk. “Precisely.”

Hanzo couldn’t help his laughter, quieted in the din of the office. Satya was most definitely one of the reasons he enjoyed being called in for work.

-

It was close to eight in the morning on a Saturday when Hanzo was woken up, the searing green numbers of Jesse’s alarm clock burning into his eyes.

“Sorry, honey.”

Hanzo twisted, watching Jesse dress down to crawl into bed, likely having gotten home from work. His hours were ridiculous, but he loved his job and it wasn’t as though he was out of reach from Hanzo during that time. A few times a week Hanzo liked to call in still, just to be talked to sleep.

If he called during a busy time, he often got to hear people asking about him. ‘When will you meet Drifter?’ and ‘Do you love Drifter?’ were asked most frequently and easily deflected by the smooth Six Gun.

Hanzo smiled when Jesse slid into the bed, curling up behind him, wrapping his arms around the accountant’s waist. So easily they fell together, a strange type of relationship that often left Hanzo wondering when it’d developed this far. Dinners to holidays, holidays to nights, more and more Jesse and he shared their space without unease. Nothing was demanded, but the casual affection passed between them warmed Hanzo’s days until he could feel more of it at night.

Jesse grumbled, fidgeted and adjusted, restless.

Quickly, the accountant turned over, faced his companion and smoothed his hair back from his face. “Rough night at work?”

His expression was one that, were he a cat, would imply a purr- serene, at peace and reveling in the touch given. “Nah, just got a lot on my mind. Don’t worry about it none, sweetheart.” He slurred, exhaustion seeping into his voice.

Hanzo pursed his lips, slid his hand out of Jesse’s hair to cup his grizzled jaw, thumb brushing the wayward whiskers.

The radio host sighed, content, and wrapped his legs around Hanzo’s own, bringing them closer together.

Despite the plea, he worried. So much troubled this man and yet Hanzo could do so little to ease it. Financially, he could help, but he had to be sneaky, didn’t want Jesse to believe he was pitying him by throwing thousands of dollars at his family. It was quite the opposite, Hanzo admired him and all he did for his kids. He believed the man deserved more for all he did, for as much kindness as he showed to a world that had been cruel to him and for raising two kids to do the same.

Easily, the two young ones could have been cynical toward a world that let them suffer at the hands of a supposed caretaker. But Jesse, this sweet, good man had instead made sure that they came out of their situation on top, unwilling to let someone else’s cruelty define them.

“Hanzo?”

With a start, he focused back in, found deep brown eyes staring at him in concern and realized he’d stopped stroking the man’s face. “Thinking.”

Jesse grinned, sloppily and half mashed into the pillow. Endearing. “‘S that what that smell is?” The smile quickly fell away, replaced by apprehension though Hanzo couldn’t place why. “Did you hear what I asked ya?”

He shook his head and it seemed to ease the look on Jesse’s face, if only just a little.

“I wanna take you out to dinner tomorrow.” He swallowed, eyebrows pinching together, drawing courage. “Just me ‘n you. What d’ya say?”

Hanzo couldn’t form the words fast enough, his mouth dry, and the longer he tried to regain control of his body, to keep his heart from leaping up through his throat, the deeper that furrow between Jesse’s brows got.

“Sorry, I-”

“No!” He suddenly said, desperate to stop the apologies. It was a bit too loud for the quiet morning in the close space. “I mean yes. Yes, I would love to.”

If his heart burst when Jesse pulled him in for a crushing hug, and if he settled into that embrace with all the comfort in the world, then that was neither here nor there. All that mattered was the happy sigh against the top of his head as Jesse held him close and safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although the fic itself is the gift, the surprise chapter is for Aki after a hard past few days. I'm so goshdang lucky to have them in my liiiiiife <3<3<3<3
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	13. Wrinkles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so before I get messages about it: I work with servers. I know there's a lot of -hand waving- about attitudes back and forth. Sometimes the server does give an attitude, sometimes it's the guest, I've seen both situations. I left this very vague in the chapter because I really don't want people crawlin up my butt about it.
> 
> That being said, it's very late when I'm posting this, so I'm gonna proofread it tomorrow morning but I wanted to get this out there tonight!

“I don’t get why you’re so worked up over this, Pops.”

Jesse threw what felt like the hundredth shirt over onto the bed, discarded in lieu of finding a better one. He wasn’t looking for anything too fancy, after all people went to places like Olive Garden in their casual wear, but he wanted to make an impression. “An’ I don’t know why you two are so calm about it.”

To punctuate the ease in which his children found themselves in, sitting on his bed and judging his fashion choices, Hana popped a bubble from her gum - lime green, no doubt a gift from Genji. “Is it something special?”

“It’s a date! Of course it’s special!” He tugged on a beige flannel shirt, buttoned it up and waited for the call.

Lucio shook his head, folding the already discarded choices. “Aren’t your dinners like dates? Especially when we’re not here?”

Jesse shot them a look and shrugged out of the button-up. “That’s just dinner. This is like-” He waved his hand around, plucking a simple long-sleeve, dark red shirt from the closet. It wasn’t his first choice, but he couldn’t remember where his favorite pink flannel had run off to. “We’re dating now. I think. Haven’t really talked ‘bout it.”

Hana choked on her gum, sat upright and narrowed her eyes at him. “You two aren’t dating?”

“No.” He answered, muffled slightly as he tugged the shirt on.

“He’s been sleeping here for months, and you’re _not_ dating.”

The shirt stretched across his chest, pulled at his shoulders where the seams gave him trouble about laying flat. “Nah, he just needed a place to crash. The man can’t hold his liquor.” He smiled fondly, recalling the accountant wrapped up like a burrito in his jacket.

“Sure, Dad. Not dating.” Hana spoke, twirling her finger.

He completed the indicated turn and stood, waiting once more. “Honest.”

Lucio gave him a nod, the verdict approving of his attire. “Call it what you wanna, we’re just glad you’re finally getting out there.”

Hana grinned, scrambling off the bed and going to stand on the chair in his room. “Yeah, and Han’s a great guy.”

Jesse backed up to the young woman, letting her run her fingers through his hair and tie it up. He wanted to keep his shaggy hair out of his face during the night, wanted to enjoy every moment. “That’s why I gotta look my best. I can’t fuck this up.”

Laughing, Hana placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him forward. “Like I said, sleeping here for months. If your snoring hasn’t chased him away, I doubt a bad dinner out will be a deal breaker.”

He went to retort, to say that just about anything could be a deal breaker, but found his words cut off by the opening of the front door. His date was here. Jesse took a quick look at the clock and frowned; how long had he spent looking for a decent shirt?

There was nothing for it, not now when Hanzo was already there and waiting for him.

The thought prompted him to leave his room faster than normal, jittery from excitement and fear- it would be so easy to fuck this whole thing up, but at least he was being given this chance. If he slammed into the hallway walls and knocked some pictures askew, the kids said nothing.

Seeing Hanzo, preening in the small mirror by the door, as though he was just as nervous, caused Jesse’s heart to jump into his throat. The accountant was dressed in a far more casual ensemble than Jesse expected of him.

His black pants, not slacks surprisingly, seemed like they were tailor made to fit the man. Honestly, Jesse wouldn’t have been surprised if they were. He noticed with mirth that Hanzo’s hair was down, brushing his shoulders.

What took the cake, what made Jesse create the most ungodly gurgling sound in his loss for words, was that he found his missing flannel. His favorite pink, button up cotton shirt, was snugly against the accountant’s skin. The front buttons over his chest weren’t straining, but he knew with just the right stretch, the small pearlescent fasteners would threaten to give.

The last time Hanzo walked through his front door with that shirt on, the night ended in disaster.

He couldn’t fuck tonight up.

Hanzo finally noticed his appearance in the entryway and smiled, an honest to god dazzling smile with his cheeks tinged pink. How many days had Jesse hoped for that sort of look to be shot his way? “It appears we have switched.” He said, indicating their swapped hairstyles.

Jesse chuckled, approaching with a wide grin. “Yeah, ain’t I supposed to be the one in a button up?”

The accountant screwed up his face and looked down at his shirt, plucking at one of the breast pocket flaps. “I neglected my laundry too long. It was this or it was an ugly christmas sweater from Genji. I cannot recall where it came from- I think Tracer brought it home for me.”

“If I’m honest,” Jesse slid closer, everything coming alive like electricity when Hanzo’s arms draped over his shoulders, naturally. “I’m kinda fond of this look on you.”

“And what look is that?”

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to Hanzo’s cheek, filing away the soft huff of air from the accountant as a sound he’d like to cause more often. “In my shirts.” He murmured, pulling back to watch Hanzo’s face turn bright red.

The other man stared long and hard at the pink shirt, evaluating it’s worth now that he’d been made aware of its origin.

Jesse was sure he was going to demand to postpone the date, or at least be allowed to find a different shirt. Hell, maybe now the ugly christmas sweater from Genji was more appealing.

Instead, Hanzo looked up at him a self-satisfied grin, proud and demanding. “You will not be getting this back.”

“Oh,” He was at a loss for proper words, so sure that certain things - like wearing Jesse’s flannel - would push him away, shove him back into friends-but-not-as-friendly territory. Jesse hadn’t even stopped to think that maybe Hanzo wanted to be in that shirt just as much as Jesse adored seeing it on him. “W-well-”

“Unless it is important you…” He looked down, unsure of himself, as though he wasn’t allowed to be smug about stealing Jesse’s shirt through an unknown series of exchanges.

“No, no it ain’t,” It was. That shirt was his lucky one, his favorite one. He’d won the case to keep the kids in that shirt, he’d found this perfect little house in that shirt, and a myriad of other smaller things throughout the years like finding twenties on the ground. “You look mighty fine in it.”

It brought the smile back to Hanzo’s face, a haughty smirk. Jesse watched his lips, remembered how they’d felt for brief seconds, and wished he could just do it again.

No use pining when it was all right in front of him. “Better get movin’ before it gets crowded.” He spoke, walking past Hanzo and opening the door. “Hope ya don’t mind a little bit of helmet hair.”

-

The drive to the restaurant is pleasant, at least from Jesse’s point of view. Maybe Hanzo had his arms tightly around his waist in a panic as they sped through traffic, but all that mattered to the radio host was getting to feel Hanzo tuck against him, trust him. He might have laughed when Hanzo yelped when they wove between two semi-trucks, and he might have deserved the quick punch tightening of Hanzo’s arms for it, no matter how much it made his abdomen hurt.

The restaurant was not as pleasant as the ride, not even from Hanzo’s point of view. Service was slow, their waitress uninterested in their time and snippy even when Jesse warmly asked for a dessert menu, and it was just Jesse’s luck that a big birthday party was being held three tables over for a bratty five year old.

He could see it in his mind’s eye, the date going down in flames, especially when the five year old started throwing a temper tantrum and screaming like a banshee. Jesse flinched bodily at the ear piercing wail, glanced over to Hanzo and found the accountant forcing himself to focus on the menu.

Jesse grimaced and tapped the man’s leg with his boot to get his attention. “We don’t gotta stay for dessert. I can make just about anything if ya find a recipe.”

Hanzo pursed his lips, glancing at the menu once more before looking up. He hooked his ankles with Jesse’s and shook his head. “I am enjoying the company. Besides, at home,” Jesse’s heart flopped around painfully in his chest at the word, “there is always a chance for an interruption.”

“Ya sure? Hell, if it’s interruptions you’re worried about, we could use your place- matter o’ fact I feel a bit guilty always doin’ things at home. Feel like ya hardly use your home that ya paid for.”

The accountant laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Do not feel guilty, Jesse. The house is for Genji and Lena, if I had my way, I’d be in a humble apartment close to the office.” He placed his elbow on the table, leaning his chin into his palm with a hum. “And it was paid for long ago.”

“But bills and the like-”

“Jesse, it is okay.”

“And all the money you put into your yard, and the insurance for the place.” Jesse pressed, watching Hanzo’s face screw up. Had he not considered these things? It would be strange if he hadn’t, these were all things Jesse considered when he was looking for a house. “And the upkeep, and damages that could happen, oh god and the Home Owner’s Association - they’ve been up my ass about-”

“I am rich, Jesse.”

The clack from the radio host shutting his jaw was audible, but didn’t last long as he opened and shut his mouth, trying to form words. He had to say something. “Rich?” Intelligent. Really.

Hanzo looked flush but nodded.

“Hon, I know you’re an accountant and they make some bank, but a house is still a hefty thing to take care of.”

The other man looked at him sharply, a small crease forming between his brows. “Jesse,” His tone was grave, serious, striking something cold through Jesse. “I could gold plate your balls if I desired it.”

Jesse flinched, hands diving down to defend himself from the invisible threat. “Not my huckleberries.” The words were barely a whisper, but he regretting them instantly.

Hanzo blanched, eyes widening. “Your… huckleber-” He cut himself off, raising a hand to prevent Jesse from speaking as he composed himself. “Yes, I could. I have the money to pay someone to do it, and the money to convince you to do it.”

“I dunno, would take an awful lot.” He slowly uncoiled.

Hanzo raised an eyebrow. “Name your price.”

“Uh… A hundred thousand.”

A wicked smile flashed at him. “Cheap.”

Jesse sputtered. “Ch-cheap?!? Five hundred grand then.”

“A small dent…” Hanzo squinted, running numbers in his head. “Maybe.”

“How much do you have!?” The question came out louder than he intended, and the radio host felt a hot flush of embarrassment. He expected to be chastised about his volume or even for prying into things like money - he certainly didn’t want Hanzo to think he was only after his money, he hadn’t even known before tonight that the man had so much.

Instead, Hanzo laughed again, wrapped their ankles together tighter. “Plenty- I will never want in life. Genji and Lena will never want.” Red spilled across his cheekbones again. “We will never want.”

“We…” Compared to the outburst before, this was quieter. A whisper followed by a smile. “You know you don’t gotta worry about me, Hanners. I make my own way, always have.”

“Yes, well. I hope you are ready to be spoiled, Jesse. I am fond of buying gifts.”

“Sugar, every day with you has been a gift.”

Hanzo screwed up his face, a wrinkle appearing just above the tip of his nose as he scrunched it. “Disgusting.” His eyes told Jesse he didn’t mean it harshly so he laughed in response. “Your lines are deplorable.”

Their waitress finally returned to take their orders for dessert at that moment.

“We will not be getting dessert. May we please have our check?” The woman rolled her eyes and sauntered away.

“Han… what about interruptions?”

Hanzo smiled at him, soft and open and the sight of it took Jesse’s breath away. It was the same look he had in the mornings when they woke up, and the same one when Hanzo fell asleep nestled beside him. Contentment, adoration. “Interruptions are part of having family, are they not?”

Surprisingly fast, the waitress returned with their bill. Jesse snatched it from Hanzo’s hands, intending to pay for the date that _he_ had asked for. He slipped his card into the billfold without looking at the price, ignoring the painful twist in his heart at the thought of an unknown amount of money slipping through his fingers.

The accountant finally untangled their ankles. “And I am sure your children would not mind staying at my house if we asked it of them. It would put my place to use and give us privacy.”

Jesse beamed, drinking down the rest of his water. “Havin’ two houses certainly is a privilege.”

-

They pulled up to the house and Jesse cut the motorcycle, but neither of them moved. Hanzo’s arms remained around him, his helmeted head pressed against his back, and Jesse kept his hands on the handles. He felt the urge to run, not on his own, but with Hanzo. Kick the bike back on, peel out, go on a trip.

No interruptions. Just them.

But they were adults with jobs. They had people who would worry if they just disappeared, and just like Jesse didn’t want his face on his old videos and loved radio because he could hide, he didn’t want to have his face on a milk carton.

Hanzo moved first, removing his helmet quickly before plastering himself against Jesse’s back again. “I do not want tonight to end.”

Jesse did the same with his headgear, reaching down to place his hand over Hanzo’s. “Sugar, you know we’ll still see each other? I ain’t gonna kick you out of my bed just cause we’re datin’ now…. We are datin’, right?”

“Jesse McCree,” Oh, how he wished he could see the accountant’s face as he said that. His voice was stern, admonishing, and something told Jesse he’d enjoy watching him talk. “I practically live with you. I see you off to work, I sleep in your bed- and you have the _nerve_ ,” His arms tightened their hold. “To ask me if we are dating.”

He was at a slight loss for words, only managing to eek out a grunt of confirmation.

“You are… something else, Jesse. In all my years-” He sighed, nuzzled into Jesse’s back, muffling his next words. “Yes, we are dating. I did not think we were not.”

“We never talked ‘bout it. Didn’t wanna make assumptions, Hanners.”

Hanzo huffed. “I still do not want tonight to end. I cannot explain why.”

Jesse chewed at his lip as they remained there, wondering what he could do. They’d been there long enough that Jesse’s legs were itching to move, so he swayed his body back and forth slightly. Without the stand up, the bike swayed with him, and so did Hanzo.

The thought hit him suddenly, and when it did, he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. He kicked the stand up, and flicked on the headlight from the motorcycle.

He hopped off the bike, heart jumping at the pained sound Hanzo made when they separated, and held his hand out to the accountant. “Dance with me?”

Hanzo stared at him and scrunched up his face again - oh how badly Jesse wanted to lean down and kiss that little wrinkle that appeared again - before accepting the offered hand.

The radio host was quick to drag Hanzo into the light with him, casting their shadows on the closed garage door. There was no hesitation in getting close, his hands settled on Hanzo’s hips and the other man draped his arms around Jesse’s shoulders.

Slowly, Jesse led them in a sway, rhythmless without a tune, and Hanzo felt it.

“This is ridiculous without music.” He muttered, burying his face against Jesse’s shoulder.

“Sorry my bike don’t have a radio.”

Looking back, he would call this the moment he fell in love with Hanzo, only he didn’t know it yet. He’d swear up and down that the instant he heard it, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with the man, but in reality he was so stunned that it took him a beat or two to catch on.

Hanzo began humming.

Deep, familiar, Hanzo created the tune for a song - _their song_ \- and Jesse’s heart soared.

He adjusted their hold, taking one of Hanzo’s hands in his own and holding it out, sliding his arm further around the accountant’s waist. He couldn’t leave Hanzo to do all the work, so Jesse joined him, humming along at first, but that wasn’t enough.

Jesse ducked down, resting his cheek on Hanzo’s head, and sang. Low, matching the wonderful sounds Hanzo made, he closed his eyes and soaked into the moment.

_Stars fadin', but I linger on dear,_

_Still craving your kiss._

_I longin' to linger 'till dawn dear,_

_Just sayin' this._

The dream went on, filled with too many repeated verses and spots where neither of them knew what really came next, but Hanzo’s humming trailed off and the song ended.

Their dancing stopped, their hold turning into more of an embrace.

“We should head inside, darlin’.”

Hanzo pulled away and screwed his face up. There it was again, that wrinkle, adorable and it would have been so easy to lean down and kiss it… so he did.

It stunned them both, left Hanzo blinking owlishly at him and made him scrunch up his nose even more at the feeling. And Jesse, he wanted that feeling again.

However, it appeared the accountant had other plans, tilting his head up as Jesse went to dive in, kissing him square on the lips. It wasn’t their first kiss, Jesse had taken that in his haste to stop the accountant from revealing things that would only drag up old wounds, but it was the first that was engaging.

The floodgates opened. For hours, it felt like, he stood there kissing Hanzo. Their kisses ranged from short and chaste to long and hot, with many variations in between.

Eventually, it slowed and they pulled away from each other. Hanzo’s large smile was infectious and addicting, the radio host wanted to keep it forever; this way, Hanzo’s face kept the wrinkles at his eyes from his laughter and that little one at the end of his nose too. Jesse was helpless, so he kissed it again.

With a bark of laughter, Hanzo swatted at his chest. “Disgusting man.” He leaned away, yet fell right back against Jesse when he was pulled back in.

It was a good thing that the accountant played coy when Jesse went to kiss him again, or they would have never made it off the driveway and into the house.

Just like many nights before, a comfortable routine of two men at ease with each other, trusting each other, they dressed for bed and crawled in together. It was the same, but different now, and wrapped around Hanzo was how Jesse wanted to fall asleep every night from then on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An especially presenty-present of a chapter for Aki. -smooches-
> 
> I AM NEVER WRITING SLOW BURN AGAIN. OH. MY. GOD. 13 CHAPTERS FOR THEM TO FUCKING SMOOCH.  
> There is more to this fic, but those chapters will tip the rating over into explicit, so for those of you who don't want to read that sort of stuff, I hope this is a good ending for you guys! As for the rest of you, trust me, it will not take 13 more chapters for the E, but there will be a little more burn before we get there -lenny face-
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	14. Valentine

Tap tap tap.

The steady beat of his pen hitting the desk echoed in the empty offices of Zhou Technologies. Every year it was the same deal, everyone took the day, this day, off and Hanzo would voluntarily come into work to avoid his brother’s and tennant’s romantic endeavours.

Never before had he wanted to spend Valentine’s Day anywhere else.

Now he had someone of his own, for the first time in years. His pen stopped its tapping as he  buried his face in his hands- Jesse had taken the day off. The look on his face this morning when Hanzo began to get dressed, how small he seemed when the accountant pressed a quick kiss goodbye on his cheek.

Wrong, Jesse hadn’t just taken the day off, he’d taken two days off - a big dent in his funds. The radio host wanted to make sure he was well rested for today, and that he wouldn’t have to run out tonight either. He planned a day.

Perhaps that was why Hanzo saw no problem in going to the office today, not when he could work from home as he always did, if there even needed to be work done. The assumption on Valentine’s Day was a date, and with dates came the subtle promises of something more.

Something more that he and Jesse hadn’t gotten to. Occasionally he remembered the videos, the sex toys, and Hanzo would feel a chill settle in the pit of his stomach. Jesse would expect sex, want it, but all the same would be willing to put it off for Hanzo’s sake. It made him feel guilty, depriving his significant other of that close affection.

Things hadn’t changed much since their first date. Their lives were still the same, only with more kisses. Holding each other in sleep turned into soft gentle brushes of lips that sometimes trailed over exposed necks and chests. Seeing Jesse off to work still entailed a kiss, but now it was deeper, sometimes deep enough to leave the cowboy flustered as he went and mounted his motorcycle.

Hanzo truly loved kissing Jesse and all the small things that came with it- the radio host was unsure of where to put his hands half the time, kept his lips staunchly closed in the mornings for fear of Hanzo’s dragon breath. Or maybe protecting the accountant from his own morning breath. Either way, the notion was horribly endearing.

Tip-tap tip-tap.

The clicking of his pen was accompanied by the approaching sound of snapping heels, and as he turned around in his seat, he was met with Satya leaning in the entry of his cubicle.

“I am surprised you’re not spending Valentine’s day with your new beau.” She said sharply.

He shook his head. “I am surprised to see another soul here, especially you with how often I see you scamper away early to meet someone.”

The woman flushed bright red, “You’re one to talk- I hardly see you come in these days.”

“Jesse keeps an odd schedule, and I have unfortunately let my own go the same way.” It was a half lie. He doesn’t regret the steady shifts in his routines, matching times awake with Jesse. He sleeps while the radio host works, and Hanzo uses the time when Jesse falls into bed to work on his own projects.

“Yes, well, that applies to both of our partners then.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

Satya clicked her tongue, slender finger wagging. “Not without a little quid pro quo. You’ve told me next to nothing about this cowboy of yours-”

“He’s not a cowboy.”

“Charming, casseroles with no recipes, southern accent,” The ticked each item off on her fingers. “Sings to you- Hanzo, my darling, I’d say you have a genuine cowboy whether you like it or not.”

“You are stalling.”

“And you’re deflecting.” Satya paused, holding out for a brief moment before smiling, the corners of her mouth curling up- Hanzo was willing to bet the soft look that overtook her had more to do with her partner than it did with their little back and forth. “We celebrated yesterday,” She pulled a thin gold chain around her neck, a simple golden medallion hanging from it with geometric patterns etched into it’s surface. “Tonight is a good night to work at a bar, and I would not stop her from earning what she aspires to.”

The soft moment passed, the woman quickly tucking the necklace behind her shirt’s neckline. From it’s length, the golden circle rested right above her heart. Precious.

“So why are you here?”

Hanzo sighed, wringing his fingers together before suddenly wrenching his hands apart. He was no unsure, lovesick teen wondering if his crush would dance with him. He was an adult, a full grown man… who was hiding on Valentine’s Day. “A mistake, clearly.” He began to neatly stack his files, slipping papers into folders, preparing to go get a quick lunch and return. “Avoiding him today, but feeling dreadful for it.”

She pursed her lips. “Then why not go home?” She gestures grandly around them. “I doubt anyone will notice.”

“I am too nervous to go home.”

“Then tell him why.” She offered, tucking a wayward paper into a bin. “From what you have told me of him, he is forgiving- and you may be nervous over nothing.”

Hanzo stilled, and in his hand a heavy lamp covered in blood appeared for only a moment before fading away into a ladle with tomato sauce dripping from it. An ugly past bleeding into a warm present- just because it _was_ nothing, didn’t mean it _meant_ nothing. “Perhaps.”

-

When he arrived home, Jesse didn’t press for answers. He was greeted with a warm hug, a slow kiss, and an escort to the dinner table. Just like any other day, like any other date, they ate together and talked about whatever their minds could grab hold of.

The company was what mattered then, not the content, and for that, Hanzo felt all the worse about having gone to work. He deprived Jesse of that company; he hurt him again.

“It was hard to plan anything tonight,” Jesse started about halfway through a shared piece of strawberry cheesecake he’d bought. “I ain’t very keen on goin’ out somewhere, didn’t think you’d be either.”

Hanzo affirmed the assumption with a nod, reaching over while the other man spoke to steal a strawberry from his side of the cake. “So what did you plan?”

Jesse grinned, returning the favor of theft by stealing a portion of whipped cream from Hanzo’s side. “The kids are stayin’ at your house, and I might have moved the tv upstairs so we could cozy down in bed and watch some cheesy romcoms- I always did enjoy laughin’ at how over the top people get in those films. Like they lose their brains when they’re with someone.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

Jesse jabbed the empty fork at Hanzo with a pout. “I did _not_ lose my brains-”

“So you had little to begin with?” The accountant lofted an eyebrow high, leaning away from the offending utensil. Jesse gaped at him, jaw dropped and eyes wide, and the temptation was too great. Hanzo plucked the fork from his grasp and skewered a strawberry, placing it in Jesse’s open mouth.

The radio host still stared at him as he ate the offered fruit. “Rude,” He grumbled around his food.

“Perhaps.” Hanzo paused, considered all he knew about Jesse and his past. Seventeen, fighting for kids- not in school. He affectionately runs a hand up the man’s jaw. “You do know I was teasing you, Jesse?”

Jesse leans into his touch, stealing the fork back and swiping more whipped cream from the desert. “Of course, darlin’. I know you ain’t with me for my good looks- you think I’m…. how did you put it?”

Hanzo laughs, leans in to kiss him and winds up with whipped cream on his own lips. “ _Disgusting._ ”

-

They were curled up in the bed, a plate of soft cinnamon rolls half devoured and an empty, once shared, glass of whiskey on the bedside table. First they were side by side, then came the crossing of ankles, followed by legs thrown over a lap- no touch was enough.

The movie was entertaining, don’t misunderstand, but it couldn’t hold a candle to the addicting smoky kisses Hanzo shared with Jesse. It was pleasant, unhurried, stoking a fire low in his gut that he had long since thought extinguished.

Everything felt okay, Jesse pressing close and rolling them over gently only brought deep sighs from his lips. Kisses down his chest were filled with nothing but the purest of adoration Hanzo had ever felt.

Everything felt right, right up until it didn’t. A hand stroked at his groin through his pants, and despite the twitch of want his body responded with, alarms blared loudly in his mind. This was wrong, this was how people got hurt.

This was how people died around him. Just like the last few times. His brother, his father- who was next?

“Hanzo?”

Snapping to the present, the accountant found Jesse by his side, no longer over him or even touching him. “What-”

“You started shakin’.” Jesse said bluntly, eyebrows furrowing together as he looked over Hanzo. A hand came up and hovered uncertainly, finally grabbing one of Hanzo’s and gently prying open his fist. The accountant hadn’t been aware of having them up in front of himself, defending himself. “Talk to me, darlin’.” The radio host urged.

Hanzo bit at his lip, “I cannot do this, not now.” He gestured downward, his eyes following the sweep of his hand.

For all the times he’d managed to ignore Jesse’s large dick, this time he took notice of it- or rather, took notice of it’s still softened state within the man’s thin sweatpants. It was almost as if it was never interested, as if Jesse was never interested.

It was blow to his pride, if he was honest. As much as he didn’t want sex, he wanted his partner to want it. He wanted to know that he was desired, that he was enough to be wanted by someone in that capacity. Especially by a man who appeared to have no qualms with anything sex related.

“But it seems that you do not want to.”

Jesse looked down, turned bright red but assured a better grip on Hanzo’s hand. “Nah, ain’t like that, sweetness.” He spoke softly. “C’mere.” More sure that the accountant would accept his touch, Jesse arranged them both so that Hanzo was seated between his spread legs, his back resting against the radio host’s chest.

His hands, rough and calloused, kneaded at Hanzo’s shoulders as Jesse continued.

“You know what I used to do for a livin’,”

“Porn.”

Jesse barked out a laugh. “Yeah, porn. I ever tell you why I quit?” Hanzo shook his head. “It got to be too much for me. I know some fellas who could keep going, hell, I’m pretty sure they’re still in the business, but I couldn’t. Was poppin’ a little blue pill near every day it felt like, and I ain’t no doctor, but I’m certain things weren’t supposed to be like that.

“I was exhausted even after crashin’ for twelve hours. That place, while it paid me well, worked me to the bone- pun not intended- oof!”

Hanzo smiled as he retracted his elbow from where he’d jabbed it into Jesse’s side.

“Mean,” The radio host murmured before kissing the top of his head, resuming the massage. “Anyways, I quit, and found out a few weeks later that my dick just didn’t work right anymore. I thought it was exhaustion still, but months came and went and it still…” He hesitated to continue.

The accountant reached up to his hands, removing them from his shoulders and pulling Jesse’s arms around him in an embrace. He leaned heavily into the other man’s chest in a silent urge to continue.

“It works. Eventually. It’s why I’ve got all the,” He coughed, gestured to the room which was clear. “Toys ya saw. It just takes a bit more effort than what you’re probably used to-”

“I am not used to anything.” Hanzo said suddenly.

Jesse sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin, honey. I woulda-”

The accountant turned halfway in the hold so he could look up at his partner. “No, but it has been…” He counted in his head, how long he spent in his current house, how long he and Genji stayed holed up in a shit apartment while his brother recovered. “Ten and a half years now.”

“That’s a mighty long dry spell-”

“Jesse,” He squeezed one of the radio host’s hands tightly. “I told you… that this is not who I always was.”

“And I told you I don’t care.”

“I killed the last man I slept with.”

Jesse’s silence was a knife, slowly sliding between his ribs and into his lungs. Hanzo found it hard to breath- he hadn’t intended to ever tell Jesse about that, but it slipped. Someone else had to know what happened, he never even told Genji about Koba’s fate.

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” Jesse chuckled, ducking his head to drop a kiss on Hanzo’s shoulder. “Thought to myself when I first saw you: bet he could kill me and I’d thank him for it.” He waited a beat. “Is that why you got all,” He gestured with an exaggerated shaking hand. “Y’think yer gonna hurt me if you sleep with me?”

“No,” Hanzo was quick to reply. “I could not do that to you. I… the last time I slept with my ex, he was busy having my brother killed.”

“Hanzo…”

“He taunted me afterwards, told me I was nothing… and I just felt so angry.”

Pulled closer to Jesse by his strong arms, Hanzo half buried himself against the other man, feeling more than hearing his words. “You ain’t gotta justify any of it with me. My hands ain’t the cleanest either.” He sighed, curling around the accountant more. “I promise you’re safe here, Hanzo.”

“You do not get it.”

“Then tell me.”

Hanzo lifted his head, pressing his nose under Jesse’s jaw. “When I sleep with someone, people get hurt. Always. I am cursed.”

Jesse stilled. “That what y’think?”

“It is what I know.”

The radio host shrugged, leaning back and pulling Hanzo to lay on top of him. “I used to know a lotta shit too. Changed my mind on some of it, eventually.” The accountant rose to protest but was held down by Jesse’s strong arms. “I ain’t sayin’ it’ll definitely pass, but it might. Either way, don’t think I’m gonna leave ya for it.”

“How could you not? Even knowing it potentially means I will never sleep with you?”

“Call it a risk I’m willin’ to take. Sex is nice, but I don’t need it to enjoy my time with ya.” He paused. “And I know it don’t mean you don’t like my company, not with how much you like kissin’ me.”

Hanzo furrowed his eyebrows. “And where did you draw that conclusion from?”

The other man laughed, deep and comforting. “Honey, I ain’t never met a man or woman alive who asks for as many kisses as you do. Not even when they were bein’ paid to.”

“I do not ask for them.”

“Oh, yes you do.” Jesse insisted. “You get real handsy, start pullin’ me around when you want my attention.”

“I do not ask,” Hanzo reached up, pulled Jesse down close and smiled when the radio host bent easily to his whim. “I demand them.”

Jesse grinned, “My kinda man.”

He couldn’t tell you what movies they watched, or for how long they watched them. All that mattered in that moment, that night, were the strong arms around him and the tender kisses shared, sometimes flavored with a bite of cinnamon rolls from a supply that slowly dwindled.

Hanzo liked this, feeling safe and no less wanted despite his flaws- even when it meant falling asleep in an awkward position and having the worst crick in his neck the following morning. It was worth it for the evening spent lounging with his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay folks, went through a lot of stuff these past few months so this chapter is a gift for Aki for being there for me through it all.
> 
> I know there are some potentially touchy subjects in this chapter, and if anything comes up that I need to respond to, I'll do so over on my tumblr <3
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	15. Don't Look Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesse's past. And a special long chapter. :)

_“Shit,” Jesse hissed as dug around in the leather bag. It felt like an endless void, one where he reached his hand in and pulled out an endless supply of useless shit. Lipstick. Darker lipstick. Pills. More lipstick._

_He knew the shades- his mother would leave the small, dimly lit apartment with a soft pink and return with a gentleman and vibrant red. If she returned still in pink, Jesse knew to make himself scarce._

_Finally, his fingers found the grimy cloth texture that came from well-worn money. He pulled the folded wad of cash out of the purse and counted. His mother couldn’t be bothered to pay the bills - their gas hadn’t been on for a year and a half now - so it fell to him to filch and scrape the money from her and arrange for the essentials to be paid._

_Rent was always the priority, a roof over their heads. The electricity wouldn’t be shut off, but the collectors would come so that was next. The water sometimes got shut off, if he couldn’t pull together enough money. His mother’s callers and his own part-time job only got them so much._

_He was young, too young to be working by any legal standard, but for a quick makeout session behind the general store for a down payment, Jesse knew a guy who got him all the papers to make him appear old enough. His early growth spurt that left him towering over his peers was suddenly his best asset to pull it all off._

_One of the downsides was that he still owed that Deadlock kid the actual money for the forged papers. Needless to say, Jesse avoided the general store in town these days, instead walking twice the distance to grab food at the small market on the edge of town. Frozen foods didn’t make it home, but that didn’t stop him from buying ice cream and convincing himself halfway through his trek that he should eat it then and there and not let it go to waste._

_The other downside was the whoopin his mother would dish out when he failed to return home with everything. He would claim he forgot, unwilling to tell her about the kid he owed money to, and she would be livid. The stinging red across his face was always for the milk._

_Thankfully, this month they had enough for all of the bills and for a moment, Jesse was gleeful at the thought of cooking noodles on the stove again. Cheap as they were, he missed the feeling of warm food in his stomach._

_He had a second thought, glanced down at the surplus of money in his hand. They’d been without gas for so long now, surely they could continue to do without it. The money could be saved… or taken._

_He earned this, he thought, thumbing through the bills. For all the whoopins he endured, for the aches in his feet after bringing home lackluster groceries, for working instead of focusing on school and on being a kid- this money was his._

_There were no second thoughts about it once Jesse decided. He tucked the money into his shirt and made a beeline for the door. He needed to hide it, a stash._

_Jesse didn’t get far, not even a door down when the neighbor opened their door and popped their head out._

_“Hello, Jesse, you’re in a rush today.”_

_His head whipped around and he must have been wide eyed like a deer caught in the headlights. “Howdy, Miss Amari.” He replied carefully._

_She smiled pleasantly and opened her door, stepping to the side. “Do you have a moment to spare?”_

_“Of course!” He answered a bit too eagerly. As heavy as the stolen cash felt, he couldn’t say no to her. She’d been nothing but kind as a neighbor._

_On days when his whoopins made him consider running from the only shelter he knew, on days when he wound up in the hall of the building, trying to stop from crying and hiding his red face, she was always there for him. Her ice packs and homemade salves felt like heaven on earth and Jesse didn’t know anyone else who could brew tea like she did._

_As he scrambled inside, Miss Amari let out an amused huff and left her front door halfway open. She never caged him inside her apartment when he came in. The first time, when she let the door click shut, he expected nothing less than what his mother taught him a closed door meant. He must have shown it somehow, for the woman pulled the door back open and always left it ajar for him from then on._

_“Are you still looking for a job?” She asked, pouring tea from a kettle into two mugs._

_He nodded, then realizing her back was to him, let out an affirmative, “Yes’m.”_

_Miss Amari spooned sugar into a mug, and then sparing him a glance, dumped in another spoonful. “I have an offer for you,” She said, placing the sugar laced tea in front of him._

_“Oh,” He took the mug in his hands, feeling the warmth seep through. “Thank you, ma’am, but I already got one.”_

_“Yes, I know, I’ve seen you at the autoshop.” She gave him a knowing look, like she knew lied about his age to the kindly swedish man who hired him. “But this will be closer to home- and less work.”_

_Less work meant less pay, and he pursed his lips to prevent himself from saying such aloud. “What job is it?”_

_She smiled over the rim of her mug, looking at the pictures on the wall behind him. “My Fareeha is coming home, she’s been away with her father on a trip._ Bonding _, ” She laughed fondly, and Jesse could tell that despite their separation, she remained with good graces and will toward her ex-husband._

_It was a complete turnaround from the venom his mother spat about his deadbeat, no good, asshole father who ran off. What he doesn’t tell his mother is that he remembers his dad, that his dad came to him before he ran off and apologized because he couldn’t take Jesse with him but he couldn’t stay. Some days the memory fucks him up._

_“But unfortunately,” Miss Amari’s words pull him from his thoughts, quickly and efficiently, giving him something to focus on besides the shitty situation he finds himself in just one door down the hallway. “My job pulls me away for days at a time. I’d like to pay you to be a babysitter.”_

_He frowned. “I’m real sorry, Miss Amari,” His fingers traced along the edge of the mug nervously. “Babysittin’ won’t help pay the bills.”_

_“I’d pay you as much as you’d make at a full time job, more even.” She says sternly, suddenly all hard edges and negotiation. “I would do no less for you, since some days would require your full time. Groceries are delivered, of which you would be free to help yourself to, and the guest room would be yours for the nights that I can’t make it home.”_

_It was a dream come true, the perfect place. He wouldn’t have to worry about bills, about food, about whether or not his mother was in a good mood or not. An escape._

_But it came with a gnawing anxiety- for so long he depended on himself. He was the one who paid the bills and kept the apartment clean. He was the one who decided what groceries they needed and what quality they could afford._

_It was too good to be true and he could hear his mother calling him a leech for accepting such a golden offer._

_Sensing his hesitation, Miss Amari slid a key across the table, tucking it under his palm without a word. She pat the top of his hand affectionately. Her touches were soft and loving, inviting him to do better instead of demanding it like his mother’s. “Fareeha likes you, Jesse. She looks up to you.”_

_He couldn’t help the few tears that escaped his eyes and tried to hide it by rubbing furiously at his face with the back of his hand._

_“It’ll be good for you.”_

_-_

_Half a year flew by and Jesse was pushing at the edge of fourteen going on fifteen. He grew taller still and laughed every time Fareeha proclaimed she’d be taller than him one day. He was her brother, and it was hard to remember a time when she didn’t think of him as such._

_Even when she went away._

_Miss Amari never came home one day. Three days wasn’t unusual for the woman to be absent, and though she couldn’t tell Jesse exactly what her job entailed, he knew she would never stay away longer than she needed to. She loved being home with her daughter and cooking for both her and Jesse, sharing recipes she learned from around the world._

_It was on the fourth day that Jesse grew worried and on the fifth day he called Fareeha’s dad to see if he’d heard anything from Miss Amari._

_Child Services came for Fareeha on the seventh day and she went away._

_Jesse was left to slink back into his apartment, curl up in bed and try to forget how alone he suddenly felt. He tried not to think of the snot and tear covered face of young Fareeha as she clung to Jesse and told him that she loved him._

_Half a year was a mistake._

_He was rusty in his skills of avoiding people. His mother got ahold of him, berated him for the dust covered apartment and blamed him for the john that left because of the lack of water in the apartment._

_He forgot why he used to walk so far and endure his mother’s wrath when he went to the market to ask for a job as a bagger._

_The Deadlock kid caught him, demanded his money or Jesse was going to pay. The scuffle he got in left him with a shiner, a sprained shoulder, and bruised ribs- but you should have seen the other guy._

_Deadlock sure did, and that turned into his one way ticket to never having to deal with his mother again. They wanted him. They claimed he was perfect, just unassuming enough that no one would know what was coming until they hit them- until he hit them._

_How could he say no? He didn’t want to go back to judging his well-being on his mother’s lipstick. He wanted running water, food that wasn’t bread and cheese slices, he wanted something more than his run down little apartment._

_They welcomed him into their ranks with open arms and despite the dog eat dog world of Deadlock, they were more family than his mother had ever been._

_Even that came to a crashing end._

_Just turned seventeen and in cuffs, Jesse had more scars than a kid his age ought to have and a reputation that exceeded belief. Deadlock was well known, but only he and a few select others were known outside of just being Deadlock. Back then, he used to grin something nasty when he remembered that convenience store owners would have the cash ready for him by the time he walked up to the counter with a case of beer._

_The FBI was after his hide and it did no favors to his pride- from a small town kid crying in the apartment hallway to a gang member worth of the country’s attention. And he wasn’t even eighteen._

_He’ll never be sure how it happened, why it happened._

“You are the youngest, while you have done some… questionable things, you are also the only member who has not killed someone.”

_The lie that set his future on a better path. Maybe his brothers saw he still had a chance, he was the youngest still and over the years they’d all grown protective of him in their own rowdy ways. Maybe they were giving him a shot, or maybe it was just plain ol’ dumb luck._

_Either way, he would have been a fool to deny the statement._

_-_

_It was babysitting day again, and when he showed up at the rec center, Lucio came running up with a little girl in tow._

_“Hey runt,” He grouched, and though he meant offense from day one, Lucio had only ever taken it as affection. Jesse didn’t have the heart to crush his optimism. “Who’s this?”_

_Lucio beamed. “It’s my sister, Hana.”_

_“Sister?” He looked the girl over, she had to be super young, so young that Jesse wondered how eleven-year-old Lucio had been allowed to drag her out without their parents around._

_“She’s with Judy too.” The foster mother. Lucio hardly spoke about her._

_Jesse squatted to their level, watched Hana eye him critically and suspiciously. He knew that look. She didn’t trust him at all. “Jesse,” He introduced himself, offering his hand._

_Her eyes instantly darted to his tattoo on his arm and before he could recoil, she drew in close. She ran her hands over it with a coo of appreciation. Suddenly her arms were wrapped around his in a vice grip. “Lift me!” She demanded._

_He shook his head to deny her when Lucio mirrored her on his other arm. “Lift!” They both cried out at the same time._

_Trapped as he was, he had no other choice. With an exaggerated grunt for showmanship, he stood and lifted his arms up like a weightlifter, flexing and preening under their squeals of delight. It was then he noticed that it was no strain on him to pick them up, even without good leverage._

_They were so small._

_Months passed by and soon his community service of being a Big Brother to Lucio turned into being their part-time caretaker, but without the pay. Every time they jumped on him and Jesse barely moved, he knew something was wrong. Kids at their age were usually growing fast, but they both remained tiny._

_It happened one day when he took them for breakfast. His job at the carwash gave him a bonus and he wanted to spend it on the kids. He couldn’t recall when he’d grown fond of them, all he knew was that he was happy with them and was always able to forget the awful things he’d done while in the light of their smiles._

_Endless pancakes was the order of choice. Jesse knew himself, he could pack away stack after stack of hotcakes, but he’d always eaten a lot and fast. That’s how it had to be when he was younger, he didn’t have time to enjoy the food and he didn’t know when he’d get his next meal. He was better now, he could slow down, but he still ate like a bear about to go into hibernation._

_He was surprised when the scraping of forks on plates didn’t come from his plate first, but from Hana’s and then Lucio’s. There was no conversation, the usually chatty kids were quiet and stuffing down as many pancakes as they could, drenching them in syrup. They ate like him, only worse._

_It hit him, after so many years, before he learned to ration and before he learned what foods were cheap and filling, he’d been that way. Malnourished, underfed. They were suffering in their foster home and he’d be some sort of monster to let them stay that way._

_He couldn’t let them turn into him._

_-_

_A warm weight on his shoulders had Jesse bolting upright, his hands scrambling for anything that could be used for defense. It took him a moment of wielding a thick law book before he remembered he was in a library. It took another to realize it was dark outside- he’d fallen asleep._

_A soft laugh filled his ear. “You always were jumpy.”_

_He turned around and found a familiar face looking down at him. “Well, that’s what happens when you sneak up on a man, Angela.”_

_She rolled her eyes before focusing her attention on his books. “Law? I didn’t take you for the lawyer type. Although it would make a compelling story- young criminal gone straight, fights within the justice system to make sure other young kids get a chance like he did.”_

_Jesse wrinkled his nose. “It’s not for me, it’s… the kids.”_

_“Lucio and Hana?” She asked, setting her stack of books down on the table across from him- anatomy from the looks of it._

_Angela was in the Big Sister program when he showed up, assuring he didn’t murder the kids before she was off to get her pre-med degree. She only stuck around long enough to see him through his probationary period before leaving - they’d been friends, but he wouldn’t call them close._

_“They’re being sent away. So I’m fightin’ for ‘em.”_

_Angela pauses. “Sent away?”_

_Jesse bites his lip, remembering the day Hana passed out and he nearly couldn’t wake her up. “They were bein’ starved in their foster home. Reported it, cause that’s what we’re supposed to do, right?” He looked up to her for confirmation that he’d taken the right steps. Angela’s agreeing nod eased some of his anxiousness. “It was a real open and shut case- one look in their home and it was real obvious that they weren’t gettin’ what they needed._

_“But now they’re bein’ sent to another home and god- Ange I never thought I’d be the sappy type, but you don’t know heartbreak until you’ve got a little thing clingin’ to ya beggin’ ya to not leave them.” He dropped his head in his hands, reminded of Fareeha telling him that she loved him, “So I gotta fight for ‘em. Ain’t no one know those little buggers like I do.”_

_His companion reached out and took one of his, “They mean a lot to you.”_

_“They do.” He despised them at first, wanted nothing more than to fill his sentence and leave. Any other gang would be happy to have him, he could have a family again._

_Before he knew it, the kids were his family. Now they were his redemption, his chance to do good and try to counter all of the bad he’d done in his life._

_“How long do you have?”_

_“A few weeks.”_

_She hummed and then tapped his book. “Better get to studying then.”_

_-_

_He won, Lucio and Hana were his kids now, but that only came with a whole other set of problems. The carwash paid nice, but it wasn’t enough, he couldn’t support the three of them with it. After about a year of scraping by, he turned to what he knew made cash fast…_

_Jesse’s spit on the ground and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand as he rose up. “Thank ya kindly for yer business.” He spoke smoothly, leaving the john behind to collect himself and clean himself up. Jesse’s fee didn’t pay for any coddling after and he had more potential customers waiting._

_A rough hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. “I believe you owe me half my money,” The man stated gruffly, still in the process of tucking himself back into his pants._

_Jesse yanked his arm out of the customer’s grip with a sneer. “I don’t owe you shit. The deal is fifteen minutes or less or I give you half your cash back. That’s from start to finish and don’t include any manhandlin’ you wanna do beforehand.” He took a glance at his watch and smirked cruelly. “You took six.”_

_“Bitch,” The man grabbed for him again and Jesse pulled the knife from his boot._

_He backed the john into the wall, a good deal taller and more imposing than the handsy creep. He felt a hot flush at how eager he was to fall back on old habits, roughing up people for their transgressions. “Wanna run that by me again?”_

_The john held his hands up, trying to placate the knife-wielding man. “I-I got a wife.”_

_“That’s cool,” Jesse looked down on the man. It was easy to tell the guy was used to getting his way and to have a sex worker belittle him was jarring. “She know you like to get men to suck your dick in an alley?” A thought, a chance. “Wallet, on the ground, or I make sure she finds out.”_

_The man tried calling Jesse’s bluff, “You don’t have her-” He was cut off by a punch to the gut and while he was doubled over, trying to collect himself, Jesse deftly reached into his pocket and plucked his phone out._

_“I got all I need. Wallet, now.”_

_The man didn’t move so Jesse sighed and opened up the phone- what a dumbass, no passcode. He thumbed through recent messages, unsurprised to find the man had been sent more than a fair share of illicit pictures from other folks. He found the message thread under ‘Wife’ and snorted, how boring._

_He began texting out a message and suddenly the man threw his wallet on the ground, snatched the phone from Jesse’s hand and ran with his tail between his legs. Coward._

_Jesse sighed and collected his earnings. He opened the wallet and found a picture of a nice looking woman inside, must be Wife. A shame, she didn’t deserve to be treated like this. There was about two hundred in cash and Jesse honestly had to wonder what the man hoped to gain by getting twenty five bucks back._

_“You should have crushed his phone,”_

_Jesse glanced over his shoulder to see a large man staring him down. Larger than Jesse, though they were nearly equal in height. “Closed for the night,” He snapped._

_“Shouldn’t have let him get away with that.”_

_“With what?”_

_The man was quiet for a moment, watching Jesse rifle through the rest of the wallet. “Cheating.”_

_Jesse paused, but only for a second. “He won’t. Now, I said closed.”_

_“How can you be sure?”_

_Jesse groaned, snapping the wallet shut and shoving it into his pocket. “Cause I’m good at memorizing numbers, okay? Fuck off.”_

_The man shifted. “Numbers…”_

_“Yes! Fuck, dude. Memorized his wife’s number and I’m gonna fuckin’ text her later. Best I can do. Get off my back.” The man was making him nervous, just standing around. There was no advancement being made, but it also didn’t appear as though the man was going to leave him be. Jesse just wanted to get home and crawl into bed._

_He was still there._

_Jesse snarled and marched up to him. “What d’ya want?”_

_The man leaned in and Jesse was prepared launch his fist into the man’s kisser, but a business card was suddenly flicked up between them. “A job offer.”_

_He snatched the card and glared. “You make a habit of offerin’ jobs to people on the street?”_

_“Good people, sure. Some of my best employees were doing exactly what you are. Steady pay, benefits, consistent hours. Give me a call if you want a change of scene.” The man sauntered away, as though he hadn’t just annoyed the shit out of Jesse._

_The card was sleek, matte black with gold writing. A name and a number. Blackwatch._

_Getting home was a blessing and Jesse did his best to stay quiet, mindful that his kids would be sleeping. He got as far as removing his shoes before he figured out that he was just plain exhausted and slipped into bed._

_It should have been an easy feat, but nothing remained simple when it involved Lucio and Hana. They were tangled in his sheets, Lucio was spread out and hogging most of the bed and Hana was wrapped around one of his pillows, holding it in a vice grip._

_Jesse sighed fondly, unable to be upset, and nudged Lucio semi-awake. “Scoot,” He demanded._

_The boy rolled to the opposite side from Hana, leaving space in the middle for Jesse to lay down._

_Instantly, a sleepy Hana latched onto him. “Love you, Dad.” She murmured into his arm before falling silent._

_“Love you too,” Lucio echoed the sentiment, tucking against him._

_Jesse’s chest hurt. These kids depended on him so much and so often they were missing him for days. They deserved better, they deserved someone good._

“Good people, sure.”

_He thought about the black business card jammed in his pocket beside the stolen wallet. He could be good; for them he would._

_-_

_The man from the alley met him in front of a large, sleek building. Jesse felt extremely out of place, in a ratty hoodie and jeans. “I looked you up,” He started, determined to get the upper hand on the other man._

_“Smart move. And?”_

_“Porn. And I still can’t figure out why you pick people off the streets for it.”_

_The man smiled. “Real people, no cheap acting. I pride myself on the quality of my videos. We’ve cornered the market on the unconventional.” He stuck a hand out in front of Jesse. “Gabriel Reyes.”_

_“Jesse McCree.” He responded. “If I accept, I have a few conditions.”_

_“Name them.”_

_All business, Gabriel was turning out to be the kind of guy Jesse could get along with._

_“I got kids, you need to know, but no one else.”_

_Gabriel furrowed his brow. “Why do I need to know?”_

_Jesse held up a finger. “I don’t wanna show my face.”_

_“Fair enough,”_

_Another finger. “I don’t wanna do anything that’ll leave lasting damage. Can’t have my kids asking questions.” And a third finger. “I don’t want no one who doesn’t gotta know, knowin’ my name.”_

_Gabriel laughed, throwing an arm around Jesse’s shoulders and leading him inside the building. “I don’t think I know a soul in here who puts their real name down for anything. Got anything in mind?”_

_Jesse shifted, “Not really.”_

_“Don’t worry about it then.”_

_The few people they passed as Gabriel led him heaven-knows-where were friendly. They greeted the two men and one of them even gave Jesse a thumb’s up and a quick ‘good luck’ before disappearing down a different hall._

_They stopped in front of set of double doors. “Now before I finalize this offer, I wanna see how you get along with most of the crew. This whole place doesn’t run smoothly unless everyone gets along.”_

_Jesse nodded. “Makes sense,”_

_“Good,” Gabriel looked up to a light, just as the red bulb turned off and grinned. He shoved open the door and everyone’s eyes were on him and Jesse. Jesse shifted, but didn’t shy away from any of the attention, so far this was looking like a good job, a perfect way to support his family._

_“Everyone, I’d like you to meet our new amateur, Ryder.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the wonderful Aki- you're done! you did it! <3
> 
> I speed-proofread this, so if there's any glaring errors, please let me know.
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	16. A Royal's Flush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a lil more explicit. No smut, but definitely more descriptive and way more adult situations.

The next month flashed by. March was filled with tender nights, often leading to heated sessions that left Hanzo breathless and with an itch of a feeling like he might want more. There was no pressure from Jesse’s end, nothing that forced Hanzo into feeling like he had to take things further.

No, if anything, the dopey grins and sweetly murmured praises were more than a clear enough signal that Jesse was happy as things were.

It was Hanzo who began to want more.

A frightening, yet exciting thought. He worried, just as he always did, but it was a feeling that was slowly being eclipsed by the genuine warmth and trust he felt with Jesse. Just months ago he would have been dead certain that nothing would protect him from his curse - real or not - but now he felt as though if anyone could, it would be the radio host.

But he kept the feeling to himself, so sure that the second he tried to act on it he’d be sent into a panicked tailspin.

April brought Hanzo many things.

While it marked the fourth month of his relationship with Jesse, it also marked the anniversary of his ex’s untimely… disappearance and tax season.

Don’t misunderstand, Hanzo quite enjoyed his job - the numbers of a spreadsheet never lied to him, that usually fell to the people behind the numbers and in those cases, he simply reported to higher ups and let them handle it.

As a faithful employee of Zhou Technologies, Hanzo had the fortunate situation of receiving a large bonus for doing the taxes of the company and his coworkers. While he had enough money stashed away that he would never want in life, more security for those around him never hurt. And well, appearances had to be kept. Hanzo Shimada, humble accountant who was helplessly in a loving relationship with his neighbor, a secretive radio host.

The irony didn’t escape him that of all people in the world Hanzo could develop feelings for, it would be possibly the one man with more secrets than himself. Compared to Jesse, Hanzo was like an open book - give or take a few torn and smudged pages.

Mid-April brought exhaustion, and at the end of the day, all Hanzo wanted to do was crawl into bed, beg Jesse to come hold him, and sleep.

Stepping through the door to their home, a smile touched his lips when he thought of how eagerly Jesse always fell into the bed with him, the large man covering him in soft kisses and softer words. It was domestically satisfying.

He found the kitchen empty sans a note on the counter from Jesse’s kids announcing that they had a cookout this evening with the other athletes of their school. Hanzo noted that his house would then be empty, Tracer being an athlete as well and Genji spending more and more time away from home.

A quiet evening was just what the doctor ordered after having to sort through stack upon stack of files for taxes.

Toeing his shoes off and kicking them into the hallway closet, he couldn’t help but wonder where Jesse had gotten off to. It wasn’t time for work for him, and Hanzo hadn’t gotten a text from him either- not even a bleary, misspelled ‘good afternoon’ from a sleep-grogged Jesse, waking up for the day.

He surmised that the radio host must still be in bed.

Perfect, then Hanzo could simply slip into his arms, no begging or deal making required.

The stairs seemed daunting, but the promise of a warm body and a body-warmed bed gave him the strength to go on. Perhaps he would ask Jesse for a massage later, the man’s hands worked wonders on his calves after long days.

Getting to the top of the flight, a grunt came through the door - closed, oddly - of their bedroom. Hanzo picked up his pace, Jesse was waking up and he didn’t want to miss the opportunity to keep the radio host in bed. He was always less inclined to get into bed if he got out, often having to be bribed with promises of good food and films.

Opening the door, Hanzo was not surprised by the slurred yelp of confusion. Many times he’d barged into the room, stomping with the weight the work day brought upon until he threw himself into bed.

This was not the case.

It took a moment to register what he was seeing, Jesse’s face flushed bright red - a color that spread all the way down to his navel - and his legs were spread lewdly. Oh yes, and naked. Did he mention that Jesse was naked, strewn over the comforter in their bed.

As if that weren’t enough to short circuit Hanzo’s work-fried brain, then certainly the flash of the cow print toy, halfway in Jesse’s body was.

Bessie. The large dildo was covered in lube, taunting Hanzo with just how easy it was to seat itself in Jesse.

“Hanzo!” The radio host cried out, scrambling to grab the covers and hide himself. It was a strange feeling, the heat that settled upon hearing his name called from a man in such a… compromising situation.

He couldn’t form the words to express that he wished his name were said with less surprise… and more with begging.

Jesse squirmed, discreetly trying to remove the toy, hips arching up and pressing the outline of his hard dick against the flimsy cover- hard.

A decision he’d been avoiding, a feeling he’d yet to express and address- in this moment, he wanted and there was no echo of the past to taunt him. Everyone was safe, this he knew, no one would get hurt if he allowed himself this pleasure.

Quickly, Hanzo strode over to the bed, taking a hold of Jesse’s bicep.

The helplessness in the radio host’s eyes was tantalizing, but not something Hanzo desired to explore right this second.

“You look like you could use a hand.”

Jesse’s face morphed from embarrassment to sheer mortification, jaw dropping wide and the red on his face becoming impossibly deeper. “Honey, you don’t-”

Hanzo ignored the protesting, pulling off the covers from the other man. He slid over top of him, straddling his waist as he peered down at his partner. “I want to.”

Said aloud, the words were weighted so heavily that Hanzo felt as though he couldn’t breathe.

But Jesse, his sweetest Six Gun who never asked, never took for granted and always gave with all his heart, cupped his face and drew him down for a kiss. It was soft and heated, with no signs of stopping until Hanzo was giving little aborted thrusts, grinding his clothed dick into Jesse’s stomach.

“Let’s get you outta those clothes, sweetness, and get Bessie put away- I’m gonna make this good for you.”

A strangled “Please,” was all Hanzo could manage.

-

Laying together in the afterglow, Hanzo made sure he was touching as much of Jesse as he could.

He was waiting for it, the rising panic now that the heat of the moment had passed, but it never came. Jesse never let him stew, kept him occupied with soft touches as they came down, little praises whispered into his hair as they cleaned up.

With all of the love he was surrounded with in that moment, there was no room for fear.

The memory of his ex was always a little faded, but against the backdrop of safety he found in Jesse’s arms, Koba faded away to near nothingness. There would always be that small ghost, lingering, ready to strike, but he trusted Jesse enough to fend off the monsters when they came.

“Hope I didn’t hurt ya, honey” Jesse spoke, rolling onto his back and pulling Hanzo on top of him. He went willingly, spreading himself wide overtop of his partner. “I know you said it’s been a while.”

Hanzo hummed, entangling their fingers together and squeezing. “With another person, yes.” He kissed between hairy pecs, admonishing himself for ever thinking this man disgusting. Even with the sweat of their lovemaking still clinging to his chest, Jesse was just as welcoming and handsome as ever. “But I do have my own hands, and trust me,” He chuckled. “They were not idle for ten years.”

“Darlin’,” Jesse wheezed, breathless.

The accountant hid his laughter against Jesse’s skin. “You sound surprised. I thought we had already established that I own many of your old videos.” He peeked up to see Jesse staring back, eyes wide. “I did not watch them for entertainment value.” Hanzo grinned, “Well, perhaps for that sort of entertainment.”

Jesse rolled them again, caging Hanzo in with a laugh. “You saucy little minx.”

Hanzo craned his neck, relishing in the soft kisses Jesse started trailing over his shoulder. They were innocent, not inciting another round of which neither of them would be ready for. Once was enough for now, a taste for the future.

“I’m just hopin’ I made it enjoyable for ya. Would hate to spoil it.”

His words were earnest, not seeking praise for his performance, but rather trying to coax any complaints from Hanzo - there were none to be found. Jesse had been careful, but not overly so, fantastic at reading hidden signals of when things might have been too much or not enough.

He cupped the radio host’s scruffy jaw, drawing his nails through it and grinning wildly when Jesse rumbled- something might have been closer to a deep purr of satisfaction. “I only wish that I could have been here from the beginning.”

Jesse went bright red, hunching over the accountant with a whine. “Naw, you don’t gotta bother yourself with that. It’s a lot of effort, I can just do it before we go at it next time.”

He was fast, sudden, tipping Jesse over onto his back and sitting high on his chest. Hanzo held his jaw firmly, staring down with furrowed eyebrows. “Let me rephrase; I will be here from the beginning next time. I will take my time with you.” Fast satisfaction for Hanzo meant nothing if he knew Jesse was sacrificing. The man already gave so much, he deserved this. And besides, “It is not an experience I’ve had, but it is one I want.”

There was something vulnerable in Jesse’s expression, as though everyone else had taken that offer and never insisted otherwise.

It hit him suddenly, they both had been deprived.

“Hanzo, it might be more than you’re comfortable with. I-”

“My ex was unadventurous!” The words were vomited forth, a sudden lack of control. Hanzo began scrambling internally, how to fix this; he knew that exes were something you were never supposed to talk about in the bedroom.

But Jesse didn’t seemed put off in the slightest. His large hand slid through Hanzo’s hair, letting the accountant lean into his palm. He was quiet, waiting, patient. Something was screamed loudly in the absence of words between them.

There were things Hanzo only admitted to himself, things filed away long ago as hopes he would never fulfil. Especially when Koba had even considered being ridden to be a lewd, unacceptable thing to have in his bedroom activities. A term came to mind for his past relationship: painfully vanilla.

It left its mark, the way Hanzo flushed at the sight of toys, his embarrassment was equal parts want and shame.

“I…” He wasn’t sure how to continue, how to voice aloud what ran through his mind when he walked into their room just earlier. It was his turn to bury his face, a muffled sound of frustration leaving him.

Jesse, a saint that surpassed anything Hanzo could have imagined, stayed silent, rubbing his hands down the accountant’s back, working out the knots that still lingered from the workday and more.

“You were adventurous in your videos.” He stated carefully. “It is what drew me to them. It was exciting, brought me satisfaction in ways my ex never considered.” He hadn’t known any better. Growing up, school mattered most, then his family. It wasn’t that he was sheltered or ignorant, he just never cared, it wasn’t something he needed or sought.

“I used to think it was normal… to not be satisfied after sex. After all, I was his _woman_ ,” The word felt like poison, wrong. Now that he knew so much more, he would go back to his past self, tell the youthful Hanzo that the way Koba treats him isn’t as picture perfect as it seems to be.

Jesse seemed to feel the same, tightening his arms around Hanzo.

“And I had heard from gossiping women that it was usual that they were left wanting. I was like them, so it must have been normal.” He took a deep breath. “After it ended, when I found your videos, I realized it was not.”

Sheriff Ryder’s videos weren’t the first ones he’d seen, but anything from Blackwatch had been… different, more visceral and real despite the cheesy tropes of the adult video industry. There was respect among the actors, sometimes the laughter and smiles were genuine and infectious even through the screen.

“I used to think I was abnormal, for wanting more than to just lay there.” He admitted.

Jesse’s patience has limits. He rolled them once more, but instead of covering Hanzo, smothering him and trying to make the pain in his voice disappear, he stopped on his side. In this way, neither had the upper hand, not one above the other. Their legs tangled, his strong hand finding purchase on Hanzo’s hip with a reassuring squeeze. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with wanting more.”

Hanzo frowned. “But what if you do not want what I do?”

His question garners him a laugh. “That’s why ya talk to me, like we always do, sweetness. You said it yourself, I was adventurous- you tell me what you want and if it’s somethin’ I can do, I’ll get us there. Promise.” He took Hanzo’s hand with his own. “And I ain’t expecting it all right away. Even if this was just a one time thing and you never wanna go again, I’m still gonna be here.”

The accountant rolled his eyes with an exaggerated groan. “Try as I might, Jesse McCree, it seems I just can’t keep you away.”

Jesse hunched forward, snuffled at his neck with a grin. “You’ll have to try harder.”

“You are a pest.”

“You don’ mean that.”

“I surely do.”

Jesse shook his head as he pulled away, smiling happily, open and nothing short of adoring. But it was all a ruse, his wet tongue sticking out, quick as lightning, and licking a broad slobbery stripe up the side of Hanzo’s face.

What came from his mouth could be best described as a shrill squeal of terror. “Disgusting!” He shouted, twisting to get away from Jesse’s tongue which continued to writhe in the open air, a threat.

Hanzo mashed his face into the pillow, wiping the drool off and trying to hide the grin that split his face.

Playful antics, things he’d never considered himself enjoying, he now found made him happy. They reminded him that what existed between Jesse and himself was more than just what happened between the sheets. Humor, doubts, and good food- these things are more tied them together.

As if on command, his stomach let out a large growl.

Jesse chuckled, rolling over him and giving him a firm kiss before tumbling out of the bed. “Come on, Hanzo. Let’s get some food, and if’n you don’t mind, I’d like to hear some of these ‘more’ things you wanna do.”

He couldn’t resist reaching out and grabbing a handful of Jesse’s ass, now that he’d had his hands on it, it was addicting. Doubly so when the radio host didn’t jump or shy away from the treatment, bending slightly to stick his rear end out more as if taunting him. Hanzo swatted him away and sank into the mattress, faceplanting in his pillow.

“Jesse I have a confession.” He proclaimed, muffled.

“You know I’ve always got an ear for ya.”

“I am using you for your mattress.”

Jesse snorted, tugging on sweatpants. “Well don’t that beat all.” He kneeled on the edge of the bed, leaning over Hanzo and kissing down the back of his neck. “Why don’t I just give you some alone time with the love of your life. I’ll bring you two lovebirds some food right quick.”

Hanzo turned his head, lips curled in a smile. “For the best. I do not think exhibitionism is on my list.”

His partner laughed against his skin, drawing goosebumps to the surface. “I ever tell you that you’re the goddamn best?”

“I am sure I could stand to hear it more.”

-

“Faree, he’s the fuckin’ goddamn best.” Jesse groaned, sinking down to lay his face on the counter.

The soccer player placed a mug of coffee in front of his face, sipping from her own. “You’ve got it bad, Jess.”

He made a frustrated noise. “You don’t understand- he’s perfect! Ropes, Faree! He likes ropes so much! Not bein’ in them, usin’ em!”

Fareeha rolled her eyes, disbelieving.

“I tell you how cute he was talkin’ to me about it? He don’t know shit about it, but when I offered to let him practice tyin’ knots on my arm- he was so happy, Fareeha. It’s dangerous, I’d do anything he asked if he looked like that every time.”

“You two are gross. Cute, but also gross.” She went to take a sip of her coffee but paused, staring at Jesse hard. The silence was enough to get him to look back at her. “Marry him.”

“Fareeha!”

“Jesse!”

The radio host floundered. “I can’t just- we’ve only been datin’ a few months.”

“But sleeping together for more.”

“Just sleeping!”

“Sure.” She replied sarcastically.

They drank in silence for a while, enjoying the afternoon. Hanzo was at work, the kids away - and boy wouldn’t they be surprised to come home and find their idol and godmother in their kitchen again.

“How about a bet, Jesse.”

He furrowed his brow, skeptical. “A bet?”

Fareeha nodded, a smug grin on her face. “I’ve got a championship coming up next year. Big deal.”

“What about it?”

“If I score the winning goal, you propose to him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thank you chapter for Aki who went hard and edited my other work. Speedy fingers and a big ol' brain. Love ya!
> 
> Outline description:  
> -Jesse: HANZO!?  
> -Hanzo: God I wish that were me
> 
> I know there are some potentially touchy subjects in this chapter, and if anything comes up that I need to respond to, I'll do so over on my tumblr <3
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	17. Onward and Upward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another speedy update, please let me know if I missed anything with my proofreading!

Twin groans were released into the room as Jesse and Hanzo flopped onto the mattress.

The radio host writhed and struggled to get out of his suit jacket and crisp button up, his feet working to wedge his sleek black shoes off. Even the slacks had to go and when their tight hold on his waist was released, Jesse let out a sigh.

Clad in only his boxers, he glanced over to his partner, expecting much the same scene, but was instead met with the sight of Hanzo planted face first into the mattress, arms slack beside him, just laying there and doing nothing else.

“Y’okay there, darlin’?” Jesse asked, gathering up his shed clothes in a wad and tossing them in the general direction of the hamper. He’d brother with those later.

Hanzo grunted loudly, but refused to move or say anything coherent. He was exhausted.

It was only fair- just that morning they’d had to rise at the asscrack of dawn to take Hana to the airport. She’d gotten an offer to create and test games from her favorite game producers… overseas. As much as it broke his heart to see her leave, Jesse encouraged her to go. She wasn’t a graduate of college yet, but the education system wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon and this was a special kind of opportunity.

Of course, Hanzo wanted to see her off too, just as supportive that she go after what she wanted. And if he slipped her a credit card that probably had enough money to buy their house three times over, Jesse wasn’t going to say a damn thing. He felt better knowing she would have a safety net if her own funds ran out, and he wanted her to have fun.

The mad dash back home was to get dressed for the next big event of the day- graduation. Both Tracer and Lucio received their degrees, walking the stage proudly. Tracer would be sticking around, Lucio was taking his next steps at another college in another state.

It was a long affair that had Hanzo gripping about how it shouldn’t be so unnecessarily flourished. Who needed to hear seven speeches all saying the same thing? While Jesse was inclined to agree when his ass lost feeling in the hard chair, he was appreciative of it’s length when he needed time to wipe the tears off his face.

He cried like a baby in the seats and when they met up with their kids after the ceremony, the blubbering started all over again. How could he not have wept, he never even graduated high school, and yet here he was, a proud father to a college graduate who promised to do great things in the world.

They had a nice, late lunch, tamping down the emotional morning with laughter and smiles- and then the two kids were off to spend the rest of the day and the evening with their soccer team, a celebration of their own.

The ride back was quiet, but Hanzo grabbed his hand and held it the whole way. Things were different now, but neither could express how it made them feel. There was time for that later, for now, Jesse wanted a nap.

Chuckling, Jesse sat up and rolled his partner over, undressing him with much less haste than he’d done himself.

Without any fighting back, the task was done easily. Jesse took a moment to consider the clothes, actually making an effort to toss them in the hamper and even picking up his own on the way over so they wouldn’t have to bother with it later.

He turned back to the bed and found that in the short amount of time he hadn’t been looking, Hanzo burrowed his way under the covers.

He was curled tightly in a ball, the tuft of his tied up hair sticking out and Jesse chuckled. Carefully he undid the silk tie, folding the fabric up and placing it on the bedside table.

It took more effort than anything else to get Hanzo to release even a little bit of the covers for him, but once he wrested control, he was able to wrap his arms firmly around the accountant.

The silence that crept around them was peaceful, the afternoon birds singing outside and a gentle light coming through the window. A nap was just within reach.

“I am giving the house to Tracer, since she is staying to get her Masters.”

Jesse looked down at the bundle in his arms, but Hanzo was staring resolutely at his chest as if afraid that the radio host would judge him. “That’s mighty kind of ya, but what about yerself and Genji?”

Hanzo shifted, stretching his legs out to tangle with Jesse’s. “Genji has not been home in some time, I imagine he practically lives with Mr. Reyes.”

He couldn’t help the full body cringe. “God, don’t say his name like that in my bed, babe.”

“My apologies,” Hanzo replied, but the chuckle in his voice said he really wasn’t sorry at all, but Jesse accepted the sweet kiss that accompanied it all the same. “As for me, I am sure Tracer will let me stay there, but I would not want to impose long. She and her girlfriend were going to look for a place together, and she mentioned her friend was looking for a place as well. The house would be perfect for the three of them.”

Jesse nodded, it was true, a spacious house like that would be prime real estate for students at Athena University- to be given it, free of charge, well Tracer would be a downright fool to refuse such an offer.

“I have to narrow my search however, I would like to get a pet. A cat seems to be the best choice if I’m living alone and won’t always be home for a dog.” His dark eyes peered up at him, coy almost. “Would you help me look?”

“No.”

Hanzo’s face turned bright red and he wiggled to try and get out of Jesse’s hold, but the radio host held resolute, tucking around him like a vice and burying his face into the top of Hanzo’s head.

“I ain’t gonna help you look cause you ain’t leavin’ me.”

The accountant froze. “What?”

Clearing his voice, Jesse relaxed enough to give him space to breath. “I- uh- you ain’t leavin’ this street.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but said nothing on the change of words.

“Yer gonna move in with me.”

“Jesse,” His voice was soft, pressing small kisses under Jesse’s jaw. “My dearest, I did not intend to guilt you- I will still be here as often as I can be. It will be like a workspace, just as I use my home for now.”

Grumbling, Jesse rolled them and set Hanzo astride him, settling neatly between the accountant’s thighs. “Y’ain’t guiltin’ me.” He argued. “You, Mister Shimada, are gonna move in with me. I got plenty o’ rooms here, empty nestin’ and all, that you can use for your office. This way, you don’t gotta move far and I can bring you coffee an’ sweet talk ya while ya work.”

Hesitantly, Hanzo leaned over him, palms pressed flat to his chest and a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You mean distract me.”

“Tomato, tomahto.”

When it seemed like no argument would come, that Hanzo was willing to accept this change in their life, Jesse pulled him down for a heated kiss, holding him tight.

Pulling away just a pinch, he spoke into the space between them. “An’ we’re gettin’ two dogs.”

Hanzo’s noise of delight was swallowed by another kiss.

-

The summer came and went, fast like a dream, which in all reality it was a dream for Hanzo. He had a loving partner who accepted that while they were intimate at times, it wasn’t always so easy. Jesse never fret - there was no anger, no sad woe-be-me moments where neither of them felt attractive. They rolled with the punches and fast kicks life gave them.

The punches were familiar in form, Jesse’s body unable to show the enthusiasm he felt, or Hanzo’s wicked ghost whispering loudly.

But the swift kicks came in the form of the puppies. Small little australian shepherds, demanding attention just when things began to get good. Jesse would always swear the little things were out to cockblock him on purpose.

Hanzo would merely get out of bed, tug on a pair of pants and take them out into the backyard. He wasn’t worried. They wouldn’t been needy puppies forever; soon, shutting them out of the bedroom wouldn’t be met with fearful cries that their fathers were abandoning them.

He was promoted at his job in September. No change of title, but he got a pay raise and was asked to come into work more often. While it meant he spent less time at home, it also meant he could goad Jesse into letting himself be spoiled more.

Fancy dinners out - with Tracer pupsitting, of course, they weren’t irresponsible parents - and weekend getaways were had and planned. Hanzo particularly enjoyed the spa day in the middle of October that Jesse indulged him in.

The man seemed bashful when asking if they could do that more often, enjoying the pampering.

Drifter called into the radio station more often, to the delight of Jesse’s fans.

It had started innocent, Jesse’s phone was silenced and Hanzo was ill. All he wanted was some soup from the convenience store, the only place to really get it at that time of night. So he called Jesse’s other phone, Six Gun’s line.

His voice made Hanzo’s stomach swoop, or maybe that was just his body trying to heave an empty stomach, but regardless, he smiled at it’s tone. Warm, welcoming, and he felt overwhelming pride that this voice that so many people clamored for, sounded so much better in person and that he was lucky enough to hear it.

“Six Gun,” He croaked over the line, laughing when he heard fumbling on the other end, Jesse snapping to attention.

“Drifter, what can I do ya for? It’s been a spell.”

He coughed over to the side because it would be rude to do so right into the speaker, but it was heard anyways.

“You feelin’ alright there, sweetheart?”

“Six, my dearest,” He tried again without wheezing. “Could you pick up some soup on the way home?” Silence and Hanzo felt embarrassed, this was Jesse’s livelihood, and he might risk it be insinuating that the sought after Six Gun was no longer single.

“Anythin’ for you,”

He crawled back into bed, turning on his radio in hopes that Jesse’s voice would lull him to sleep, and smiled as he listened to the man he so adored receive call after call inquiring about him; about them.

His ratings rocketed, earning the radio host a small bonus. It worried Hanzo at first, that Jesse would expect him to call every night, to keep his ratings high, but whether Drifter called in that night or not, Jesse always came home, kissed him soundly and slipped into bed.

-

November was set to be uneventful, save for the small surprise Hanzo was trying his damnedest to put together for Jesse- covertly contacting his kids to bring them home for the holiday. Jesse had spoken about it being the first thanksgiving he would have without them since he was nineteen, and the way he tried to smile through the sadness left Hanzo’s heart sore.

If all went well, they would be arriving Thanksgiving morning in a week and a half.

He was deep in thought about how best to surprise Jesse with it all when a hand shook his shoulder gently.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he turned around in his chair to find Satya looking mirthful to have caught him off guard. He quickly composed himself, sitting up straighter. “My apologies,” He said quickly.

Satya waved him off, leaning against his desk. “I was coming to check in on those reports from the Ecopoint accounts,” She looked at her nails with a grin. “But now I’m far more interested in what has your attention occupied otherwise.”

He leaned back in his chair, relaxing somewhat in the presence of his workplace friend. “You incorrigible gossip.”

“What else am I to do around here?”

“There is something we get paid for, I cannot place the word.” He tapped at his chin. “Oh yes! A job.”

She used her foot to push at the corner of his chair, sending Hanzo into a small spin. “Don’t get cheeky with me. How are you and the cowboy?”

“He is not a cowboy,” He quipped. “But we are well, happy. We’ve a dinner planned tonight.” His phone buzzed violently, and a glance at the screen told him it was Genji. He would call him back once Satya left, he didn’t talk to her nearly as much as he liked these days. “What about you and your girlfriend?” He asked, catching a glimpse of her golden necklace.

She flushed, hand flying up to let her fingers slide along the gold chain. “Fiance.”

Hanzo laughed. “Since when?”

“March- Holi.” Her face screwed up as she held out her hand, the glint of a diamond unmistakable on her finger. “There’s still paint underneath it. I must take it to a jeweler to get it cleaned properly.”

His phone buzzed again as he took her hand, turning it and catching the light on the stone. It was sizable, nothing too flashy but enough that others would be envious. What the carat was or the cut, he couldn’t tell you, gemstones were never his thing. Indeed, colors played from underneath the clear diamond, bright pink and yellow with what he suspected was a speck of purple, the dust wedged underneath.

“The paint makes it colorful- unique.” He said thoughtfully, letting Satya take her hand back. “It certainly tells a story.”

Just as soon as his phone stopped ringing, it started again. Genji still.

Anxiety gnawed away at him as he picked up the device. His brother was alright, enough to make several phone calls, but the rapid fire calls were unlike Genji. Even when he’d brought home great news, he’d only ever call once, otherwise waiting until they saw each other face to face.

“I need to take this,” He spoke, waiting until Satya nodded and stepped away.

He didn’t even get a chance to greet his brother before Genji’s voice came over the line, breathless. “Hanzo! Thank goodness! I was so worried and you weren’t answering your phone and-” A choked noise came through the line.

“Genji? What happened?” His brows furrowed and he began gathering his things. It was close enough to quitting time that he wouldn’t be missed.

“Some men broke into our apartment,” He sounded weary, stressed beyond belief. “They got the jump on Gabe and roughed up Zen and-” He hiccuped a small breath.

He hastily tugged on his jacket. “Are you alright? How bad are they?”

“In one piece, all of us.”

“Are you safe?”

His brother let out a whimper, the smallest sound that broke his heart. “I don’t know.” He hadn’t sounded so scared since-

“Where are you?”

“Petras Gen.”

Hanzo was nearly sprinting to his car. “I will be there soon, Genji.”

-

Everything was alright, despite the men incapacitating Gabriel quickly, Zenyatta hadn’t taken it lying down. The young man fought back fiercely, chasing the men out with their tails between their legs. Granted, it came at the cost of broken ribs and a black eye, but they were safe.

Genji was a nervous wreck, calmed only when he was allowed to see his significant others and sit between their beds. It warmed Hanzo’s heart to see his brother have not one, but two people so near and dear to him- two people who could keep the wild man out of the trouble that followed him.

It was a simple bonus that both men were capable defenders as well. There would never be a worry over Genji’s safety again.

Through the chaos, he’d nearly forgotten about the promised dinner date with Jesse and called him. It was later then he would have been arriving home and he felt guilty, even more so when the man didn’t pick up his phone. He made sure to leave a message.

It was late when he finally left the hospital- at the insistence of Gabriel who was sporting some nasty bruises and a cast on his arm. “With the way they ran outta there scared, I’d say they won’t be trying anything with us again.” He said with pride, laughing enough to hurt himself and fall limp with a groan. Zenyatta’s gentle reassurances that they would all be safe for the night were a lot more effective toward easing Hanzo’s mind.

He hoped Jesse was awake when he got home, or at least tucked up in their bed where Hanzo could slide in and hold him, apologize for missing dinner. Anything the radio host wanted tonight, he would have.

The lights were out inside when he pulled up and Hanzo sighed- asleep. His assumption from the unanswered call was that Jesse had gone to sleep when Hanzo hadn’t shown up for dinner. He felt scummy, of all the days to miss, it was this one.

Jesse was insistent about tonight, pestered Hanzo all last week to make sure that tonight would be a good night for a romantic dinner date. No work tomorrow for either of them, no obligations to remove them from each other from the moment Hanzo got home until the end of the weekend.

Only, that plan was ruined before it started.

Sliding out of the car, Hanzo took in a deep breath. He would make this up to Jesse, and they could still have their weekend. Better late than never.

He stilled as he approached the entry to the house.

The door was cracked open, just enough that he could see the faintest flickering illumination from the back of the house. Candles perhaps. Maybe Jesse was still awake and the power was out; it would explain the lights… but not the door.

A prickle ran up his spine as he carefully toed his shoes off out on the porch and slipped inside, silent. Something was wrong, very wrong.

As he slowly made his way further into the house, he confirmed that yes, the flickering lights came from candles. Nearly melted all the way to their base, what once were tall elegant candles were now stubs on the dining room table, casting unstable light over a spread of food.

His favorites were present, along with some more remarkable dishes that held fond memories between the two of them - a rice dish Jesse made once, wherein Hanzo nearly had a conniption fit when the radio host didn’t wash the rice beforehand. A salad with his favored ingredients, strawberries and pecans, and some small plates of Jesse’s southern spin on dishes that Hanzo had taught him.

It was a display of their time together, two lives mixed to create something wonderful.

But the feeling of dread wouldn’t leave him.

He snuffed out the candles quietly and that clued him into another light source, one being cast from the living room couch.

The harsh light from a cellphone was spread onto the ceiling, a shadow cast by a figure leaning over it- Jesse.

Carefully, Hanzo approached. The man’s face was unexpressive, devoid of anything cheerful that Hanzo had grown accustomed to. He didn’t even seem to recognize that Hanzo was there, staring into the bright screen.

Picking his way around the couch, he found a gruesome sight at the radio host’s feet. A body laid sprawled out, it’s face beaten to an unrecognizable pulp- one glance at Jesse’s bloodied knuckles told him who had done such a thing.

“Jesse,” He whispered, intending to keep the sound to himself until he could figure out what to do, but it was loud enough to break whatever spell held Jesse in place.

The other man snapped his attention to Hanzo, his blank face morphing into an anguished grimace.

Uncurled, Hanzo could see the beginning of bruises around the radio host’s neck and scratches from where he’d tried to pry the assailant’s hands off of him.

Hanzo paid the body no mind, stepping over it and standing before his lover with his hands open and available.

Jesse grabbed them suddenly, his grip painful until he relaxed and his body seemed to crumble. Soft hitches of breath carried his quiet cries as he tugged at Hanzo closer, seeking something secure. He buried his face into Hanzo’s stomach, arms winding around his waist, but not a single word left his lips.

“I am here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, another big smorch for Aki.
> 
> Notes from the outline:  
> “Overwatch lane is the happy fic”  
> > 17 chapters later *KICKS IN DOOR* HEEEEERE’S FROSTY
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	18. Laid Bare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: super vague violence. I mean like.... super vague.
> 
> Once again, let me know if there are any glaring errors!

Jesse stared long into the flickering flame of the candles, the smell of food making his stomach churn instead of rumble in hunger. His thumb absently brushed over a black velvet box, precious cargo inside. He took a glance at the clock on the wall and sighed, heaving himself up from the table.

Hanzo was late.

That wasn’t normally a problem, it’s not like he ever thought the man wouldn’t come home eventually, but tonight was supposed to be special.

For over a week he’d made sure everything was perfect, made a somewhat sketchy deal with Jamison so that he could have the whole weekend off, assured that Hanzo didn’t have any weekend meetings he’d have to attend.

The puppies were across the street with Tracer and her roommates for the weekend. Hell, he’d even called Genji a while back, making sure there was no big anniversary date this weekend that would spoil the mood.

It was going to be just the two of them. No interruptions and no surprises- save for the very big one tucked away in the box.

He stood up, grabbing two dishes from the feast he’d made and heading for the kitchen. He could at least box it all up, once Hanzo got home they could curl up on the couch and eat it all leftover style.

There was just the matter of finding another perfect moment to pop the question.

Jesse hadn’t really planned beyond the dinner, assuming with full confidence that the answer would be yes and that they’d spend the whole weekend in each other’s embrace. Celebrating.

That was something else he’d have to clean up. He couldn’t very well leave the array of toys and instruments laying out without raising some suspicion.

He tried not to let it get to him, he really did. Hanzo didn’t do this on purpose, it was probably just another busy friday at work. He probably lost track of time. He would walk through the door any moment.

But _the moment_ was ruined. There would be beckoning from the dining room table, no stories told for each small dish made, no nervous butterflies settling in his stomach. It was only dread and lingering disappointment there now.

He might have been caught up in his head, thinking too much about what something so simple as a late work night could mean for them, but whatever the reason, Jesse stopped paying attention.

He heard the telltale screech of seran wrap being pulled out too late, the plastic sheet pulling over his face almost instantly. Quickly, three more layers were added as it wrapped around his head.

Instinct told him to panic, to try and breath and to fight, but experience kept those urges down. He’d seen many men go out like this, a tupperware party is what Deadlock liked to call this method of execution. Back then, he thought it was clever.

Jesse opened his mouth wide and jammed his fingers where the seran wrap was stretched taut. Every second was precious and there was still the matter of the assailant, lingering somewhere around him.

The layer of plastic was thick but he barely managed to scrape through, creating an airhole for himself. He stumbled through the living room, vision impaired, as he headed for the front door. Just across the street- Tracer was there, it’d be okay.

He was blindsided by a body check that sent him tumbling over the back of the couch where he bounced off the cushions and hit the ground with such force that it knocked the wind from him. Already having trouble getting enough air through the gap in the seran wrap, he felt like he was suffocating all over again. Jesse reached up, using two hands to tear the hole wider, freeing his nose and chin.

The whole thing would have been removed in that moment if he had a choice, but his attacker was suddenly on him, an arm crushing his throat.

Distantly, he could have sworn he heard his phone ringing, but everything was muted by the layers of plastic over his ears.

He clawed at the assailant’s arm, catching his own neck in the process, but it was minimal damage if it meant he would live.

Jesse writhed on the ground, kicking out with his legs and bucking his hips until he tossed his attacker off of him. He was quick to follow, pinning the man with a hand crushed beneath his knee.

Blindly, he lashed out.

Everything around him fell away, even the ringing of his phone again, followed by Hanzo’s voice in his voicemail. His knuckles ached, but he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t let the man get up- that could have spelled his demise.

Seconds, minutes, hours? He couldn’t tell how much time passed before he heaved himself up to the couch.

He was slow to peel the remnants of seran wrap off his face, his fingers numb and half-unresponsive. He fished his phone from his pocket, hissing when his sensitive knuckles scraped against the denim.

Two missed calls. One voicemail.

Hanzo; he needed to call Hanzo. But did he? Would the man be understanding- the past was one thing, but this was here and now. Hanzo knew he wasn’t a saint, but the accountant’s bloodied hands were borne from defense.

His own, well, the people he put in the ground usually deserved it, but not everyone he bruised did.

Two missed calls.

He wavered uncertainly as the numbness crashed over him again, putting everything in a fog around him. Sounds, smells, sight. Everything reached him, but not really.

One voicemail.

“Jesse,”

Hanzo. His gaze snapped up, finding the accountant staring at him with such a pained expression that it twisted him up inside. He could help how desperately he reached for Hanzo, willed him closer until he could hold onto his lover.

His shoulders shook as he buried his face into Hanzo, grounded with Hanzo’s hands threading through his hair, petting at him and soothing him.

“I am here.”

Hanzo knelt, sliding through Jesse’s arms until he was on his knees between the radio host’s legs. Tender fingers pressed along the scratches on his neck, brushed under his eyes to keep the unshed tears away.

Jesse surged forward, grabbing Hanzo’s face and pulling him in for a kiss. It was one sided, the accountant responding the barest amount while Jesse was desperate against him. His heart twisted- Hanzo thought he was a monster.

Sometimes, it was easy to forget how strong Hanzo was, and as such it was always a surprise when Hanzo used that strength to lift him up.

Held in those strong arms, Jesse went pliant, holding on until he was placed carefully on the bed.

Hanzo was quick to cover him, no kisses, no rutting, just the accountant lurching over him, holding him down. “I was not here for you.” He said.

“It’s okay,” Jesse croaked. “Yer here now.”

Standing, Hanzo peeled himself away. “Not yet.” There was something steely in his eyes, a sort of calculative gaze that wasn’t meant for Jesse, but made him ashamed all the same. “I will be back, please stay here.”

-

It was entirely too long before Hanzo returned to their bedroom, shed his clothes and slipped into bed with Jesse.

The affection returned, soft kisses pressed against his shoulders, fingers locking together, and legs tangled. Pressing tight to him, the accountant suppressed the shakes the wracked Jesse’s body, ones he hadn’t been aware of.

“Where did you go?”

Hanzo sighed. “I cleaned up. You do not have to worry.”

Jesse turned until he was facing his lover. “Hanzo-”

“Jesse-”

“Hanzo please.” The accountant snapped his mouth shut and nodded, letting Jesse think through his words. “I… I ain’t always been a good guy. I killed a few folks, that was my job. An’ I never thought…” He took in a shaky breath. “I never thought I’d get anything good in my life cause of it.

“If… if this is a deal breaker, that’s okay. You’re always gonna be the best thing I got outta life.”

Hanzo’s face screwed up, that precious wrinkle appearing on his nose again. It hurt Jesse to restrain from kissing it, fighting against what had become a habit. “If you are insinuating that I would leave you over this, Mister McCree, you had better think again.”

“But you’re all...” Jesse gestured to Hanzo’s person with a wave of his hand. “You clammed up- I know I fucked up, it’s okay…”

Hanzo took hold of his face, smushing his cheeks together and stopping him from protesting. “I am worried, Jesse. You were somewhere else when I found you and that scared me- but I am not scared of you.” This time, it was the accountant who initiated a kiss, soft and sweet.

“What about the body?”

“Gone.” He said simply. “I am… talented at making things disappear. If rumors are to be believed, my old family still thinks my ex ran away with me. But we both know where I really am.”

Jesse let out a weak chuckle. “Here.”

“Yes, and here I will stay.” Another kiss, deeper but no less affectionate. “I do not ever plan on going anywhere else.”

The radio host intertwined their bodies as much as possible once again, pressed as close as possible. The quiet that settled was not turbulent, but neither was it peaceful. The emptiness gnawed at Jesse, made him think about how he never quite got a good look at his attacker.

After the seran wrap was gone, he never looked down. A faceless man he’d ended.

“I can smell that from here.”

“What?”

“You, thinking.”

Jesse chuckled, muffling the sound against Hanzo’s shoulder. “Don’t know why I put up with someone as _mean_ as you.”

The accountant held his chin, tilted his face to meet his in another kiss. “Because I put up with someone as _disgusting_ as you.”

“That right?”

“Yes.”

They shifted, Hanzo laying on his back while Jesse draped halfway on top of him. Strong hands kneaded at the knots in his back, shifting up to tenderly scratch at his scalp and play with his hair.

Exhaustion came swiftly as Jesse relaxed, and he closed his eyes to focus on the heartbeat of his partner. The sound came with another, a deep humming that was familiar from their first official date.

Just as he opened his mouth to sleepily murmur the words that accompanied it, Hanzo beat him to the punch.

_Stars shining bright above you_

_Night breezes seem to whisper ‘I love you’_

_Birds singing in the sycamore tree_

_Dream a little dream of me_

-

The day felt void before it even began.

For the first time in years, the holiday of Thanksgiving didn’t fill Jesse with warmth and happiness. Everything was different in a way that left his heart aching.

Honestly, the only reason he got up was because Genji, Tracer, and their respective partners and friends would be joining them for dinner. Turkey’s didn’t cook themselves. Hanzo also mentioned a few work friends that were coming in, of which he’d left in the earliest hours of the morning - there wasn’t even a sliver of daylight at the time - to go retrieve from the airport.

Not to be misunderstood, he was well aware that this was his family now, and he adored them to pieces. Well, most of them. He and Gabe still did a funny dance around each other when left in the same room for too long.

But they weren’t _his_ kids.

They weren’t gap-toothed Hana getting stuffing stuck in her braces. They weren’t sleepy eyed Lucio nearly face planting into his mashed potatoes.

They wouldn’t be there to squabble about the wishbone and leave Jesse to overhear both of their wishes and grant them as best he could.

For the first time since he was a gangly nineteen year old kid, in way over his head and trying to do right by someone else, he wouldn’t have his family for Thanksgiving.

The thought followed him like the plague the whole day and he worried the sour feelings would be baked into the pies.

Hanzo wouldn’t be home until afternoon- one coworker arrived in the morning, the other was later and it would have been a waste of time and gas to drive back and forth, he insisted.

Fuck it all if Jesse wouldn’t have spent every penny to have Hanzo home in between to cook with him and make him feel like he wasn’t utterly alone. Hopefully he would be back soon.

The empty house only mocked him, echoing when his phone rang from the living room. Unfortunately, he was in the middle of basting the turkey and had no extra set of hands to grab it for him- they could just leave a voicemail.

Tucking the turkey away, the lock on the door clicked, a distinct sound that filled him with more relief than he thought possible.

“-never answers his phone.” Hanzo said with a laugh to his coworkers.

Jesse ran the sink, splashing water on his face and hands before wiping them off quickly. It wouldn’t do to meet the newcomers with a sweaty forehead and palms from the oven.

“Howdy folks,” He started, rounding the corner. “Glad y’all could…”

His words died in his throat and he missed the smug little smile from his partner because his attention was solely focused on his kids. _His_ kids.

They didn’t even have time to set their bags down properly or say hello before he barrelled after them, scooping them up into a big hug and squeezing the life from them. He missed them; he knew they were doing good things in the world, but he would never stop wanting them home.

“Hi Dad,” Hana eeked out, twisting until she wasn’t elbowing her brother and returned the hug.

Lucio laughed into the embrace, “Long time, no see.”

He only held them impossibly tighter, just so they couldn’t pull away to see the tears in his eyes.

But Hanzo saw, smiling fondly as he picked up the bags that were unceremoniously dropped, and taking them to the guest room.

Jesse made a note to thank him properly later, but for now…

“Come on in, I could use your help in the kitchen.” His family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter for Aki! Almost there, we're near the end!  
> I promise, no more hurty, only good shit for the last chapter <3
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


	19. Champion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I haven't played soccer in 15 years. I did me best.
> 
> Anyways, here it is! The last chapter!

The winter passed smoothly, no incidents following the attack in early November. Police said there had been a rash of break ins and assaults that weekend, a coordinated event between more than a few thugs, some small name gang trying to put itself in power in the city, get it's name on the map.

Jesse healed- physically, it was quick, but mentally it was slower. More than a few times he laid awake, but each and every time Hanzo would come home to him, slip quietly beside him and talk. And when Hanzo was at work, the puppies kept him company, wringing laughs from him with their tiny licks and attempts at howling.

Spring brought flowers, a garden that he and Hanzo worked on together.

'Worked' was a loose interpretation. As soon as the flowers were in the ground, Jesse wiped dirt across Hanzo's face which earned him a handful of mulch down the front of his shirt. Getting dirty was infinitely more fun than getting clean, even if cleaning meant a cozy shower with his partner.

The summer scorched, but the flowers prevailed under the heat with tender care and love from them both. As a gift, Jesse worked tirelessly on a lattice cover to keep the brunt of the sun out and Hanzo saw it fit to grow creeping vines that dangled down and made their garden feel like magic. If he was honest, every day felt like magic with Hanzo.

-

 _“_ _And there she goes- can anyone stop Amari from scoring!?!”_

Jesse gripped onto the back of Hana’s shirt with one hand, the other held out to help Hanzo ease the burden of the snack he’d purchased.

“Go Fareeha!” Hana cheered, nearly throwing herself over the edge and onto the field with her enthusiastic ‘whoop!’. Only the radio host’s hold on her shirt kept her from toppling over.

He appreciated now more than ever that Fareeha had gotten them front row tickets, close to the center of the action- Hana would only injure herself and not a row full of other people.

Lucio and Tracer were much the same, though their excitement remained contained in their seats. They clenched flyers in their fists like gamblers at the horse races, everything riding on the game.

Come to think of it…

Hana’d asked him at least four times if he’d remembered everything for the game. Of course he did, cash for concessions and novelty items, shirts for the kids to use for collecting signatures. Hell, he’d even remembered the lovingly crafted signs that spelled out A-M-A-R-I. They had a “!” at home still, left behind when Genji declined the invitation.

Tracer judged his appearance heavily, begging him not to wear the cowboy hat. Like hell he was gonna let the sun get in his eyes, and if Hanzo affectionately mocked him for it but then righted it with a kiss, then it was worth it. He’d made a mental note to ask his partner about saving a horse.

Lucio had gone through the whole house, floor to ceiling, checking every little hiding place. “Looking for my shades, the cool ones.” He’d insisted, and Jesse had to fullbody wrestle the young man away from his bedroom. He didn’t voice it out loud, but he was one thousand percent certain the sunglasses weren’t with Bessie.

Those cretins, they knew. They _knew_.

But how much? Just that there was a chance? Did they know it all banked on Fareeha scoring the winning goal?

Suddenly, he became hyperaware of how much time was left on the game as Hanzo plopped down in the seat next to him.

“Ah. She scored another one.” The accountant commented, leaning into him and holding open his small box of chocolates. He kept his eyes on the field but gave them a little shake in offering.

Jesse grunted in acknowledgement and accepted the sweets with an open palm, his other hand still heldfast to Hana’s shirt. He nearly dropped the candy when she suddenly pitched her weight forward and he jerked with the force of it. He had half a mind to let go.

“It is a wonder that she is not on an international team.”

Oh, Jesse knew why. This wasn’t how she usually played, she wasn’t always so aggressive, instead relying on good cohesive teamwork to assure her victories. Here, she was making risky plays to score those goals.

At one point, early in the match, her coach had called a timeout. He looked spitting mad and Jesse found it odd that his temper cooled and Fareeha’s teammates suddenly were catering to setting her up proper….

He almost threw his hat down. They knew too.

“Jesse,” Hanzo nudged his arm. “Are you alright, dearest?”

He yanked Hana back a bit before releasing her, crossing his arms with a huff. “Peachy.”

Jesse wasn’t upset, per se, but it was a tad frustrating. Fareeha was risking a championship by playing this way, putting her career on the line for some bet- and who even knew if he was ready for it?

A year ago he hadn’t been ready to pop the question, and after the assault, the urge to do so had fallen away.

He questioned himself often: what if he’d only intended to propose to keep Hanzo around? After that night, Hanzo had stayed and that sort of promise and bond was better than any ring or ceremony. It all seemed unimportant compared to what they’d done for each other.

And yet, the small velvet box sat in his pocket. Innocently there until brought out into the light. Right now it was just a box and just a ring, but the second he presented it to Hanzo, it would be a question with an answer he wasn’t sure Hanzo was ready to give. Or maybe he was afraid of what he would hear.

_“Amari is making a last second dash! She’s running for the goal!”_

Brought out of his stewing by the announcer, Jesse watched with a clenched jaw as Fareeha bolted down the field, the ball at her feet and no one near enough to stop her.

_“Can she do it!?”_

There was just the goalie between her and the winning shot in the last few seconds. Just a goalie between her winning or losing their bet.

_“She shoots,”_

Jesse leaned forward, intent to keep his eye on everything, but it was caught by the man beside him.

Hanzo was standing, cheering on Fareeha. He was flushed and sweaty from the summer heat, strands of his hair clinging to his face while his bun unfurled from the back of his cap - proudly emblazoned with Fareeha’s team logo - and such a wide smile on his face that for a moment, Jesse forgot to breathe.

He was disgusting.

But Jesse couldn’t have loved him more.

_“She scores!!!”_

The stadium erupted with cheers, Tracer and Lucio jumped up and chest bumped before slyly grinning at him, though it was missed as he watched Hanzo turn that bright grin on him.

What Jesse wouldn’t give to keep that smile in place.

 _“Fareeha ‘The Raptor’ Amari scores the winning goal and the Helix Summer Championship for her team! Outstanding plays today for- wait, where’s she going?”_ The announcer chuckled. _“She’s completely bypassed celebrating with her team and she’s…. Talking to a ref?”_

Jesse turned to see what she was doing. She waved her hands, smiling wide and chatting with the referee, suddenly pointing at him- oh no.

The ref laughed, throwing his head back and taking off his headset. The camera, projecting onto the large screen, focused on where she’d pointed, right at him.

 _“Is this thing on?”_ She asked, jolting when her voice came through the stadium speakers. _“Oh, wow. Okay, I have something to say to my brother, right over there-”_ She pointed again for good measure. _“Pay up.”_

Her smile was cruel, merciless. Even from a distance Jesse could see the same twinkle in her eyes that often found him on the makeup end of a teaparty.

Jesse’s profuse sweating was entirely from the sun beating down. Nothing else. And the black box in his pocket didn’t suddenly feel like a hot rock.

_“Don’t make me come over there, Jesse. We made a deal, and I won.”_

He did his best to ignore the knowing leers of his kids as he shoved his hand into his pocket, hiding the velvet box in his palm until he turned to face his partner.

Hanzo looked bewildered, lost for once, and a touch concerned about what Jesse had gotten himself into. As Jesse knelt, the confusion turned into wary excitement, as though he were hoping this was what he thought.

“Hanzo, baby, I-”

_“Wait, wait one second. Can we get that man a mic, I wanna hear this.”_

Jesse glared at Fareeha, tightening his grip on Hanzo’s hand.

He locked eyes with his partner- Hanzo was already crying. He wanted to badly to stand and kiss away the tears, tell him dirty jokes and horrible puns until he laughed and melted into Jesse’s arms, but he held still on his knees- he needed to do this.

He wanted to do this.

It took too long for a worker to get a mic to them.

Jesse didn’t even get a chance to say anything, didn’t get a chance to ask Hanzo any sort of question because in some way, he’d asked a long time ago. The same as when they had their first date, the event happened long before the title was applied, months before either of them spoke about it.

Hanzo grabbed the mic, speaking a confident but sniffly ‘yes’ before handing it back.

The radio host had imagined he’d stand up, sweep Hanzo off his feet and they’d embrace sweetly.

Instead, Hanzo was hauling him up to his feet. He grabbed the hat off Jesse’s head, pulling him in for a less than innocent kiss, and using the stetson to block the camera’s view.

Granted, it did nothing to block the view from their kids who tried to tug them apart with a cacophony of ‘gross’ and ‘ewww’. But their efforts couldn’t pull them apart.

Suddenly, his hat was placed back on his head and he was being lifted, once again reminded of Hanzo’s incredible strength. Made to straddle his now fiance, they earned a loud round of hollers and wolf whistles.

The accountant merely smiled as he toted him away, leaning in close to murmur. “Mister McCree, have you perhaps thought about saving a horse?”

There was simply no stopping Jesse’s laughter as he smattered kisses all over Hanzo’s face.

-

Fareeha grinned as she watched Jesse get carried away, but didn’t think much further on that line- she’d heard enough tales from him to know what they were about to get up to.

She sat down in the grass as her wife in shining armor came over to her, towel and water bottle in tow.

“Faree, are you alright?” Angela asked.

Tears pricked at Fareeha’s eyes, a few spilling over onto her cheeks.

Giving a soft coo, her wife leaned down to loop the towel around her neck and kiss her cheek. “You must be so happy for him. I know I am.”

Fareeha finally looked away from where Jesse and Hanzo had disappeared and met her wife’s eyes, smiling broadly.

“I twisted my ankle on the run to the ref, Babe. Help me up?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, the gift for Aki is finished! I'm always so thankful to have them in my life.
> 
> I'll be posting some notes about this fic, fun little tidbits really, on my tumblr soon.  
> I'll also be starting up another fic here soon hopefully, so keep your eyes peeled.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your love and support through this thing, I'm glad you've all stuck with it for so long. <3
> 
> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


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